Dor. The Guardian of Innocence and Beauty at three and twenty! Is there not a cloven foot under that black gown, Saville?
Sav. No, faith. Courtall is here on a most detestable design.—I found means to get a knowledge of the Lady's dress, and have brought a girl to personate her, whose reputation cannot be hurt.—You shall know the result to-morrow. Adieu.
[Exit Saville.
Dor. (musing) Yes, I think that will do.—I'll feign myself mad, see the Doctor to pronounce me incurable, and when the parchments are destroyed——
[As he stands in a musing posture, Letitia enters, and sings.]
SONG.
| Wake! thou Son of Dullness, wake! From thy drowsy senses shake All the spells that Care employs, Cheating Mortals of their joys. |
| II. |
| Light-wing'd Spirits, hither haste! Who prepare for mortal taste All the gifts that Pleasure sends, Every bliss that youth attends. |
| III. |
| Touch his feelings, rouze his soul, Whilst the sparkling moments roll; Bid them wake to new delight, Crown the magic of the night. |
Dor. By Heaven, the same sweet creature!
Let. You have chosen an odd situation for study. Fashion and Taste preside in this spot:—they throw their spells around you:—ten thousand delights spring up at their command;—and you, a Stoic—a being without senses, are wrapt in reflection.
Dor. And you, the most charming being in the world, awake me to admiration. Did you come from the Stars?