me; and rivals have declined my
challenges, because they pretended it was an ungentlemanly name.

BELVIL
Ha, ha, ha, but what course do you mean to pursue?

MR. H.
To engage the affections of some generous girl, who will be content to
take me as Mr. H.

BELVIL
Mr. H.?

MR. H.
Yes, that is the name I go by here; you know one likes to be as near the
truth as possible.

BELVIL
Certainly. But what then? to get her to consent--

MR. H.
To accompany me to the altar without a name--in short to suspend her
curiosity (that is all) till the moment the priest shall pronounce the
irrevocable charm, which makes two names one.

BELVIL
And that name--and then she must be pleased, ha, Jack?

MR. H.
Exactly such a girl it has been my fortune to meet with, heark'e
(_whispers_)--(_musing_) yet hang it, 'tis cruel to betray her
confidence.

BELVIL
But the family name, Jack?

MR. H.
As you say, the family name must be perpetuated.

BELVIL
Though it be but a homely one.

MR. H.
True, but come, I will shew you the house where dwells this credulous
melting fair.

BELVIL
Ha, ha, my old friend dwindled down to one letter. [_Exeunt_.]

SCENE.--_An Apartment in_ MELESINDA'S _House_.

MELESINDA _sola, as if musing_.

MELESINDA
H.H.H. Sure it must be something precious by its being concealed. It
can't be Homer, that is a Heathen's name; nor Horatio, that is no
surname; what if it be Hamlet? the Lord Hamlet--pretty, and I his poor
distracted Ophelia! No, 'tis none of these; 'tis Harcourt or Hargrave,
or some such sounding name, or Howard, high born Howard, that would do;
may be it is Harley, methinks my H. resembles Harley, the feeling
Harley. But I hear him, and from his own lips I will once for ever be
resolved.

_Enter_ MR. H.

MR. H.
My dear Melesinda.

MELESINDA
My dear H. that is all you give me power to swear allegiance to,--to be
enamoured of inarticulate sounds, and call with sighs upon an empty
letter. But I will know.

MR. H.
My dear Melesinda, press me no more for the disclosure of that, which in
the face of day so soon must be revealed. Call it whim, humour, caprice,
in me. Suppose I have sworn an oath, never, till the ceremony of our
marriage is over, to disclose my true name.

MELESINDA
Oh! H.H.H. I cherish here a fire of restless curiosity which consumes
me. 'Tis appetite, passion, call it whim, caprice, in me. Suppose I have
sworn I must and will know it this very night.

MR. H.