Cler. Bless me, madam, how have you been abused! Many a lady before your age has had an hundred lances broken in her service, and as many dragons cut to pieces in honour of her.
Niece. Oh, the charming man! [Aside.
Cler. Do you believe Pamela was one-and-twenty before she knew Musidorus?[88]
Niece. I could hear him ever. [Aside.
Cler. A lady of your wit and beauty might have given occasion for a whole romance in folio before that age.
Niece. Oh, the powers! Who can he be?—Oh, youth unknown—But let me, in the first place, know whom I talk to, for, sir, I am wholly unacquainted both with your person and your history. You seem, indeed, by your deportment, and the distinguishing mark of your bravery which you bear, to have been in a conflict. May I not know what cruel beauty obliged you to such adventures till she pitied you?
Cler. Oh, the pretty coxcomb! [Aside.]—Oh, Blenheim, Blenheim! Oh, Cordelia, Cordelia!
Niece. You mention the place of battle. I would fain hear an exact description of it. Our public papers are so defective; they don't so much as tell us how the sun rose on that glorious day—Were there not a great many flights of vultures before the battle began?
Cler. Oh, madam, they have eaten up half my acquaintance.