Niece. But then our history will be so short.
Cler. I grant it; but you don't consider there's a device in another's leading you instead of this person that's to have you; and, madam, though our amours can't furnish out a romance, they'll make a very pretty novel—Why smiles my fair?
Niece. I am almost of opinion that had Oroondates been as pressing as Clerimont, Cassandra had been but a pocket-book[99]; but it looks so ordinary, to go out at a door to be married. Indeed, I ought to be taken out of a window, and run away with.
Enter Humphry and Pounce.
Hump. Well, cousin, the coach is at the door. If you please I'll lead you.
Niece. I put myself into your hands, good savage; but you promise to leave me.
Hump. I tell you plainly, you must not think of having me.
Pounce. [To Cler.] You'll have opportunity enough to carry her off; the old fellows will be busy with me. I'll gain all the time I can, but be bold and prosper.
Niece. Clerimont, you follow us.
Cler. Upon the wings of love.