MISS. But here’s my father, and he knows my mind.
SCENE V.
[To them] Foresight.
FORE. O Mr. Tattle, your servant, you are a close man; but methinks your love to my daughter was a secret I might have been trusted with. Or had you a mind to try if I could discover it by my art? Hum, ha! I think there is something in your physiognomy that has a resemblance of her; and the girl is like me.
TATT. And so you would infer that you and I are alike? What does the old prig mean? I’ll banter him, and laugh at him, and leave him. [Aside.] I fancy you have a wrong notion of faces.
FORE. How? What? A wrong notion? How so?
TATT. In the way of art: I have some taking features, not obvious to vulgar eyes, that are indications of a sudden turn of good fortune in the lottery of wives, and promise a great beauty and great fortune reserved alone for me, by a private intrigue of destiny, kept secret from the piercing eye of perspicuity, from all astrologers, and the stars themselves.
FORE. How! I will make it appear that what you say is impossible.
TATT. Sir, I beg your pardon, I’m in haste—
FORE. For what?