om the Greek, I
thought you might have escaped the etymology. But I'm the more amazed to
find you a woman of letters and not write! Bless me! how can Mellefont
believe you love him?

CYNT. Why, faith, madam, he that won't take my word shall never have it
under my hand.

LADY FROTH. I vow Mellefont's a pretty gentleman, but methinks he wants
a manner.

CYNT. A manner! What's that, madam?

LADY FROTH. Some distinguishing quality, as, for example, the _bel air_
or _brillant_ of Mr. Brisk; the solemnity, yet complaisance of my lord,
or something of his own that should look a little _Je-ne-sais-quoish_; he
is too much a mediocrity, in my mind.

CYNT. He does not indeed affect either pertness or formality; for which
I like him. Here he comes.

LADY FROTH. And my lord with him. Pray observe the difference.

SCENE II.

[_To them_] LORD FROTH, MELLEFONT, _and_ BRISK.

CYNT. Impertinent creature! I could almost be angry with her now.
[_Aside_.]

LADY FROTH. My lord, I have been telling Cynthia how much I have been in
love with you; I swear I have; I'm not ashamed to own it now. Ah! it
makes my heart leap, I vow I sigh when I think on't. My dear lord! Ha,
ha, ha, do you remember, my lord? [_Squeezes him by the hand_, _looks
kindly on him_, _sighs_, _and then laughs out_.]

LORD FROTH. Pleasant creature! perfectly well, ah! that look, ay, there
it is; who could resist? 'twas so my heart was made a captive first, and
ever since t'has been in love with happy slavery.

LADY FROTH. Oh, that tongue, that dear deceitful tongue! that charming
softness in your mien and your expression, and then your bow! Good my
lord, bow as you did when I gave you my picture; here, suppose this my
picture. [_Gives him a pocket-glass_.] Pray mind, my lord; ah! he bows
charmingly; nay, my lord, you shan't kiss it so much; I shall grow
jealous, I vow now. [_He bows profoundly low_, _then kisses the glass_.]

LORD FROTH. I saw myself there, and kissed it for your sake.

LADY FROTH. Ah! Gallantry to the last degree. Mr. Brisk, you're a
judge; was ever anything so well bred as my lord?

BRISK. Never anything, but your ladyship; let me perish.

LADY FROTH. Oh, prettily turned again; let me die, but you have a great
deal of wit. Mr. Mellefont, don't you think Mr. Brisk has a world of
wit?

MEL. O yes, madam.

BRISK. O dear, madam--

LADY FROTH. An infinite deal!

BRISK. O heav'ns, madam--

LADY FR