Mel. How charming is the French air! and what an etourdi bête is one of our untravelled islanders! When he would make his court to me, let me die but he is just Æsop's ass, that would imitate the courtly French in his addresses; but, instead of those, comes pawing upon me, and doing all things so mal a droitly.
Phil. 'Tis great pity Rhodophil's a married man, that you may not have an honourable intrigue with him.
Mel. Intrigue, Philotis! that's an old phrase; I have laid that word by; amour sounds better. But thou art heir to all my cast words, as thou art to my old wardrobe. Oh, count Rhodophil! Ah mon cher! I could live and die with him.
Enter Palamede, and a Servant.
Serv. Sir, this is my lady.
Pala. Then this is she that is to be divine, and nymph, and goddess, and with whom I am to be desperately in love.
[Bows to her, delivering a letter.
This letter, madam, which I present you from your father, has given me both the happy opportunity, and the boldness, to kiss the fairest hands in Sicily.
Mel. Came you lately from Palermo, sir?
Pala. But yesterday, madam.
Mel. [Reading the letter.] Daughter, receive the bearer of this letter, as a gentleman whom I have chosen to make you happy. [O Venus, a new servant sent me! and let me die but he has the air of a gallant homme!] His father is the rich lord Cleodemus, our neighbour: I suppose you'll find nothing disagreeable in his person or his converse; both which he has improved by travel. The treaty is already concluded, and I shall be in town within these three days; so that you have nothing to do but to obey your careful father.
[To Pala.] Sir, my father, for whom I have a blind obedience, has commanded me to receive your passionate addresses; but you must also give me leave to avow, that I cannot merit them from so accomplished a cavalier.