_Har._ I'd oblige you, with all my heart; but you'll spoil them in repeating--or, if you shou'd not, they'll gain you no reputation--for no body will believe they are your own. _Sir Geo._ He knows ye, Flutter;--the little Gentleman fancies himself a Wit, I see. _Har._ There's no depending on what _you_ see--the eyes of the jealous are not to be trusted.--Look to your Lady. _Flut._ He knows ye, Sir George. _Sir Geo._ What! am I the Town-talk? [_Aside_] _Har._ I can neither see Doricourt nor Letty.--I must find them out. [_Exit_ Hardy. _Mrs. Rack._ Well, Lady Frances, is not all this charming? Could you have conceived such a brilliant assemblage of objects? _Lady Fran._ Delightful! The days of enchantment are restor'd; the columns glow with Sapphires and Rubies. Emperors and Fairies, Beauties and Dwarfs, meet me at every step. _Sir Geo._ How lively are first impressions on sensible minds! In four hours, vapidity and languor will take place of that exquisite sense of joy, which flutters your little heart. _Mrs. Rack._ What an inhuman creature! Fate has not allow'd us these sensations above ten times in our lives; and would you have us shorten them by anticipation? _Flut._ O Lord! your Wise Men are the greatest Fools upon earth:--they reason about their enjoyments, and analyse their pleasures, whilst the essence escapes. Look, Lady Frances: D'ye see that Figure strutting in the dress of an Emperor? His Father retails Oranges in Botolph Lane. That Gypsey is a Maid of Honour, and that Rag-man a Physician. _Lady Fran._ Why, you know every body. _Flut._ Oh, every creature.--A Mask is nothing at all to me.--I can give you the history of half the people here. In the next apartment there's a whole family, who, to my knowledge, have lived on Water-Cresses this month, to make a figure here to-night;--but, to make up for that, they'll cram their pockets with cold Ducks and Chickens, for a Carnival to-morrow. _Lady Fran._ Oh, I should like to see this provident Family. _Flut._ Honour me with your arm. [_Exeunt_ Flutter _and Lady_ Frances. _Mrs. Rack._ Come, Sir George, you shall be _my_ Beau.--We'll make the _tour_ of the rooms, and meet them. Oh! your pardon, you must follow Lady Frances; or the wit and fine parts of Mr. Flutter may drive you out of her head. Ha! ha! ha! [_Exit Mrs._ Racket. _Sir Geo._ I was going to follow her, and now I dare not. How can I be such a fool as to be govern'd by the _fear_ of that ridicule which I despise! [_Exit Sir_ George. _Enter_ Doricourt, _meeting a Mask_. _Doric._ Ha! my Lord!--I thought you had been engaged at Westminster on this important night. _Mask._ So I am--I slipt out as soon as Lord Trope got upon his legs; I can _badinage_ here an hour or two, and be back again before he is down.----There's a fine Figure! I'll address her. _Enter_ Letitia. Charity, fair Lady! Charity for a poor Pilgrim. _Letit._ Charity! If you mean my prayers, Heaven grant thee Wit, Pilgrim.