Lady Fan. O ye Gods! What an unfortunate Creature shou'd I be in such a Case! But Nature has made me nice, for my own Defence: I'm nice, strangely nice, Madamoiselle; I believe were the Merit of whole Mankind bestow'd upon one single Person, I shou'd still think the Fellow wanted something to make it worth my while to take notice of him; and yet I could love; nay, fondly love, were it possible to have a thing made on purpose for me: For I'm not cruel, Madamoiselle; I'm only nice.
Madam. Ah Matam, I wish I was fine Gentleman for your sake. I do all de ting in de World to get leetel way into your Heart. I make Song, I make Verse, I give you de Serenade, I give great many Present to Madamoiselle; I no eat, I no sleep, I be lean, I be mad, I hang myself, I drown myself. Ah ma chere Dame, que je vous aimerois!
[Embracing her.
Lady Fan. Well, the French have strange obliging ways with 'em; you may take those two pair of Gloves, Madamoiselle.
Madam. Me humbly tanke my sweet Lady.
Enter Cornet.
Cor. Madam, here's a Letter for your Ladyship by the Penny Post.
Lady Fan. Some new Conquest, I'll warrant you. For without Vanity, I look'd extremely clear last Night when I went to the Park.—O agreeable! Here's a new Song made of me: And ready set too. O thou welcome thing! [Kissing it.] Call Pipe hither, she shall sing it instantly.
Enter Pipe.