Arch. Distance! good night, saucebox. [Going.
Cher. A pretty fellow; I like his pride.—Sir—pray, sir—you see, sir. [Archer returns.] I have the credit to be entrusted with your master's fortune here, which sets me a degree above his footman; I hope, sir, you an't affronted.
Arch. Let me look you full in the face, and I'll tell you whether you can affront me or no.——'Sdeath, child, you have a pair of delicate eyes, and you don't know what to do with them.
Cher. Why, sir, don't I see every body!
Arch. Ay, but if some women had them, they would kill every body.——Pr'ythee instruct me; I would fain make love to you, but I don't know what to say.
Cher. Why, did you never make love to any body before?
Arch. Never to a person of your figure, I can assure you, madam; my addresses have been always confined to people within my own sphere, I never aspired so high before.
[Archer sings.
| But you look so bright, |
| And are dress'd so tight, |
| That a man would swear you're right, |
| As arm was e'er laid over. |
Cher. Will you give me that song, sir?