University of Virginia Library

Scene III.

A street. Enter two gentlemen.
First Gent.
Yes, we have many instances of love
As sudden as the shooting of a star—

Second Gent.
Coming to nothing, like a shooting star.

First Gent.
Not so.—I grant, some finer looking men,
And many richer, may have fill'd her gaze;
But love stands not on looks,—a lip, a nose,
Although of import in the general mind,
Is little thought of when love makes a choice.
They tell us that in heaven all are fair:
So love with angel-eyes looks through the flesh,
And sees the heavenly features even here.
Then, as to wealth, with her of whom I speak,
That cannot be an object; for, in short,
The old man's rich, and she an only child.

Second Gent.
I cannot think such progress could be made
In one short interview.

First Gent.
Yourself shall judge.
To-night they give a treat to some few friends—
Their customers. She said I must be there,
And if you'll meet me here at half-past eight,
Ill take you with me.

Second Gent.
No, I'll meet you there:
The Bar is public, I presume.

First Gent.
Agreed.

[Exit.
Second Gent.
What folly to conclude upon a glance—
Yea, but a twinkle of that fine black eye,
Which she perforce must give to all that come,
Or not be there at all! That he must love
Is only the necessity of all
Who see her. But that she dotes in return
Is equally their folly to suppose.—
He'll take me with him! Take! How strange to me,
Who was, of course, the first that she invited!
He's but a stranger to the house. He'll blush
For these his soft revealments when he sees
Me paramount to-night! And, strange to say!
This is the very friend I thought to make
Groom at our wedding. Had I but prevail'd
Last night on Margaret to name the day,
I should have broach'd the subject even now,
And quench'd his passion ere it burnt his heart.—
'Tis better as it is. I have observ'd
That what we've said is oftener regretted
Than what we should have said but have omitted.

[Exit.