Lady Fan. Good-morrow, sweet Mr. Treble.
Treb. Your Ladyship's most obedient Servant.
[Exit Treb.
Enter Servant.
Serv. Will your Ladyship please to dine yet?
Lady Fan. Yes, let 'em serve. [Exit Servant.] Sure this Heartfree has bewitch'd me, Madamoiselle. You can't imagine how oddly he mixt himself in my Thoughts during my Rapture e'en now. I vow 'tis a thousand Pities he is not more polish'd: Don't you think so?
Madam. Matam, I tink it so great pity, dat if I was in your Ladyship place, I take him home in my House, I lock him up in my Closet, and I never let him go till I teach him every ting dat fine Laty expect from fine Gentelman.
Lady Fan. Why, truly, I believe I shou'd soon subdue his Brutality; for without doubt, he has a strange Penchant to grow fond of me, in spite of his Aversion to the Sex, else he wou'd ne'er have taken so much Pains about me. Lord, how proud wou'd some poor Creatures be of such a Conquest! But I, alas! I don't know how to receive as a Favour what I take to be so infinitely my Due. But what shall I do to new-mould him, Madamoiselle? for till then he's my utter Aversion.
Madam. Matam; you must laugh at him in all de place dat you meet him, and turn into de reticule all he say, and all he do.
Lady Fan. Why, truly, Satire has ever been of wondrous use to reform Ill-manners. Besides, 'tis my particular Talent to ridicule Folks. I can be severe, strangely severe, when I will, Madamoiselle——Give me the Pen and Ink——I find myself whimsical——I'll write to him——Or I'll let it alone, and be severe upon him that way [Sitting down to write, rising up again.]—Yet Active Severity is better than Passive. [Sitting down.]——'Tis as good let it alone, too; for every Lash I give him, perhaps, he'll take for a Favour. [Rising.]——Yet 'tis a thousand pities so much Satire should be lost. [Sitting.]—— But if it shou'd have a wrong Effect upon him, 'twould distract me. [Rising.]——Well, I must write, tho', after all, [Sitting.]——Or I'll let it alone, which is the same thing. [Rising.]