Dor. By Heavens! I never was charm'd till now.—English beauty—French vivacity—wit—elegance. Your name, my Angel!—tell me your name, though you persist in concealing your face.
Let. My name has a spell in it.
Dor. I thought so; it must be Charming.
Let. But if reveal'd, the charm is broke.
Dor. I'll answer for its force.
Let. Suppose it Harriet, or Charlotte, or Maria, or—
Dor. Hang Harriet, and Charlotte, and Maria—the name your Father gave ye!
Let. That can't be worth knowing, 'tis so transient a thing.
Dor. How, transient?
Let. Heav'n forbid my name should be lasting till I am married.