Gal. I hope a Man may have leave to make his Devotions by you, at least without Danger or Offence.
Cor. I know not that, I have reason to fear your Devotion may be ominous; like a blazing Star, it comes but seldom,—but ever threatens mischief—Pray Heaven, I share not in the Calamity.
Gal. Why, I confess, Madam, my Fit of Zeal does not take me often; but when it does, ‘tis very harmless and wondrous hearty.—
Cor. You may begin then, I shall not be so wicked as to disturb you Orisons.
Gal. Wou’d I cou’d be well assur’d of that, for mine’s Devotion of great Necessity, and the Blessing I pray for infinitely concerns me; therefore in Christian Charity keep down your Eyes, and do not ruin a young Man’s good Intentions, unless they wou’d agree to send kind Looks, and save me the expence of Prayer.
Cor. Which wou’d be better laid out, you think, upon some other Blessing.
Gal. Why, faith, ‘tis good to have a little Bank upon occasion, though I hope I shall have no great need here-after,—if the charming Silvianetta be but kind, ‘tis all I ask of Heaven.
Cor. You’re very well acquainted with my Name, I find.
Gal. Your Name! ‘tis all I have to live on!
Like chearful Birds, ‘tis the first Tune I sing,
To welcome in the Day:
The Groves repeat it, and the Fountains purle it,
And every pretty Sound that fills my Ear.
Turns all to Silvianetta.
[Fil. looks awhile on Marcella.