_Spark._ Dearest of my life, hear me. I tell you this is Ned Harcourt of Cambridge, by the world; you see he has a sneaking college look. 'Tis true he's something like his brother Frank; and they differ from each other no more than in their age, for they were twins. _Lucy._ Ha! ha! ha! _Alith._ Your servant, sir; I cannot be so deceived, though you are. But come, let's hear, how do you know what you affirm so confidently? _Spark._ Why, I'll tell you all. Frank Harcourt coming to me this morning to wish me joy, and present his service to you, I asked him if he could help me to a parson. Whereupon he told me, he had a brother in town who was in orders; and he went straight away, and sent him, you see there, to me. _Alith._ Yes, Frank goes and puts on a black coat, then tells you he is Ned; that's all you have for't. _Spark._ Pshaw! pshaw! I tell you, by the same token, the midwife put her garter about Frank's neck, to know 'em asunder, they were so like. _Alith._ Frank tells you this too? _Spark._ Ay, and Ned there too: nay, they are both in a story. _Alith._ So, so; very foolish. _Spark._ Lord, if you won't believe one, you had best try him by your chambermaid there; for chambermaids must needs know chaplains from other men, they are so used to 'em. _Lucy._ Let's see: nay, I'll be sworn he has the canonical smirk, and the filthy clammy palm of a chaplain. _Alith._ Well, most reverend doctor, pray let us make an end of this fooling. _Har._ With all my soul, divine heavenly creature, when you please. _Alith._ He speaks like a chaplain indeed. _Spark._ Why, was there not soul, divine, heavenly, in what he said? _Alith._ Once more, most impertinent black coat, cease your persecution, and let us have a conclusion of this ridiculous love. _Har._ I had forgot, I must suit my style to my coat, or I wear it in vain. [_Aside._ _Alith._ I have no more patience left; let us make once an end of this troublesome love, I say. _Har._ So be it, seraphic lady, when your honour shall think it meet and convenient so to do. _Spark._ 'Gad I'm sure none but a chaplain could speak so, I think. _Alith._ Let me tell you, sir, this dull trick will not serve your turn; though you delay our marriage, you shall not hinder it. _Har._ Far be it from me, munificent patroness, to delay your marriage; I desire nothing more than to marry you presently, which I might do, if you yourself would; for my noble, good-natured, and thrice generous patron here would not hinder it. _Spark._ No, poor man, not I, faith. _Har._ And now, madam, let me tell you plainly nobody else shall marry you; by Heavens! I'll die first, for I'm sure I should die after it. _Lucy._ How his love has made him forget his function, as I have seen it in real parsons! _Alith._ That was spoken like a chaplain too? now you understand him, I hope.