_Man._ D'ye start! Thinkest thou, thou couldst do me any other service? Come, no dissembling honour: I know you can do it handsomely, thou wert made for't. You have lost your time with me at sea, you must recover it. _Fid._ Do not, sir, beget yourself more reasons for your aversion to me, and make my obedience to you a fault; I am the unfittest in the world to do you such a service. _Man._ Your cunning arguing against it shows but how fit you are for it. No more dissembling; here, I say, you must go use it for me to Olivia. _Fid._ To her, sir? _Man._ Go flatter, lie, kneel, promise, anything to get her for me: I cannot live unless I have her. Didst thou not say thou wouldst do anything to save my life? and she said you had a persuading face. _Fid._ But did you not say, sir, your honour was dearer to you than your life? and would you have me contribute to the loss of that, and carry love from you to the most infamous, most false, and-- _Man._ And most beautiful!--[_Sighs aside._ _Fid._ Most ungrateful woman that ever lived; for sure she must be so, that could desert you so soon, use you so basely, and so lately too: do not, do not forget it, sir, and think-- _Man._ No, I will not forget it, but think of revenge; I will lie with her out of revenge. Go, begone, and prevail for me, or never see me more. _Fid._ You scorned her last night. _Man._ I know not what I did last night; I dissembled last night. _Fid._ Heavens! _Man._ Begone, I say, and bring me love or compliance back, or hopes at least, or I'll never see thy face again, by-- _Fid._ O, do not swear, sir! first hear me. _Man._ I'm impatient, away! you'll find me here till twelve. [_Turns away._ _Fid._ Sir-- _Man._ Not one word; no insinuating argument more, or soothing persuasion; you'll have need of all your rhetoric with her; go strive to alter her, not me; begone. [_Retires to the end of the stage, and exit._ _Fid._ Should I discover to him now my sex, And lay before him his strange cruelty, 'Twould but incense it more.--No, 'tis not time. For his love must I then betray my own? Were ever love or chance till now severe? Or shifting woman posed with such a task? Forced to beg that which kills her, if obtained, And give away her lover not to lose him! [_Exit._ _Enter_ Widow BLACKACRE, _in the middle of half-a-dozen_ Lawyers, _whispered to by a fellow in black_, JERRY BLACKACRE _following the crowd._ _Wid._ Offer me a reference, you saucy companion you! d'ye know who you speak to? Art thou a solicitor in chancery, and offer a reference? A pretty fellow! Mr. Serjeant Ploddon, here's a fellow has the impudence to offer me a reference! _Serj. Plod._ Who's that has the impudence to offer a reference within these walls? _Wid._ Nay, for a splitter of causes to do't! _Serj. Plod._ No, madam; to a lady learned in the law, as you are, the offer of a reference were to impose upon you.