I can't tell what to say to it. Why would not the dear creature accept of me, when I so sincerely offered myself to her acceptance? Things already appear with a very different face now I have got her here. Already have our mother and her daughters been about me:—'Charming lady! What a complexion! What eyes! What majesty in her person!—O Mr. Lovelace, you are a happy man! You owe us such a lady!'—Then they remind me of my revenge, and of my hatred to her whole family.
Sally was so struck with her, at first sight, that she broke out to me in these lines of Dryden:—
——Fairer to be seen
Than the fair lily on the flow'ry green!
More fresh than May herself in blossoms new!
I sent to thy lodgings within half an hour after our arrival, to receive thy congratulation upon it, but thou wert at Edgeware, it seems.
My beloved, who is charmingly amended, is retired to her constant employment, writing. I must content myself with the same amusement, till she shall be pleased to admit me to her presence: for already have I given to every one her cue.
And, among the rest, who dost thou think is to be her maid servant?—Deb. Butler.
Ah, Lovelace!
And Ah, Belford!—It can't be otherwise. But what dost think Deb's name is to be? Why, Dorcas, Dorcas Wykes. And won't it be admirable, if, either through fear, fright, or good liking, we can get my beloved to accept of Dorcas Wykes for a bed-fellow?
In so many ways will it be now in my power to have the dear creature, that I shall not know which of them to choose!
But here comes the widow with Dorcas Wykes in her hand, and I am to introduce them both to my fair-one?