d I am turning friar, and yet
we'll marry one another in spite of the Pope. Get me a cowl and
beads, that I may play my part; for she'll meet me two hours hence
in black and white, and a long veil to cover the project, and we
won't see one another's faces 'till we have done something to be
ashamed of, and then we'll blush once for all....

_Enter_ TATTLE.

_Tattle._--Do you know me, _Valentine_?

_Valentine._--You!--who are you? No, I hope not.

_Tattle._--I am _Jack Tattle_, your friend.

_Valentine._--My friend! What to do? I am no married man, and thou
canst not lye with my wife; I am very poor, and thou canst not
borrow money of me. Then, what employment have I for a friend?

_Tattle._--Hah! A good open speaker, and not to be trusted with a
secret.

_Angelica._--Do you know me, _Valentine_?

_Valentine._--Oh, very well.

_Angelica._--Who am I?

_Valentine._--You're a woman, one to whom Heaven gave beauty when it
grafted roses on a brier. You are the reflection of Heaven in a
pond; and he that leaps at you is sunk. You are all white--a sheet of
spotless paper--when you first are born; but you are to be scrawled
and blotted by every goose's quill. I know you; for I loved a woman,
and loved her so long that I found out a strange thing: I found out
what a woman was good for.

_Tattle._--Ay! pr'ythee, what's that?

_Valentine._--Why, to keep a secret.

_Tattle._--O Lord!

_Valentine._--Oh, exceeding good to keep a secret; for, though she
should tell, yet she is not to be believed.

_Tattle._--Hah! Good again, faith.

_Valentine._--I would have musick. Sing me the song that I
like.--CONGREVE, _Love for Love_.

There is a _Mrs. Nickleby_, of the year 1700, in Congreve's comedy
of _The Double Dealer_, in whose character the author introduces
some wonderful traits of roguish satire. She is practised on by the
gallants of the play, and no more knows how to resist them than any
of the ladies above quoted could resist Congreve.

_Lady Plyant._--Oh, reflect upon the honour of your conduct! Offering
to pervert me [the joke is that the gentleman is pressing the lady
for her daughter's hand, not for her own]--perverting me from the
road of virtue, in which I have trod