and that I had my choice of men, as scarce as they
said they were, which, by the way, confirms what I was saying before.
This being my case, I, who had a subtle game to play, had nothing now
to do but to single out from them all the properest man that might be
for my purpose; that is to say, the man who was most likely to depend
upon the hearsay of a fortune, and not inquire too far into the
particulars; and unless I did this I did nothing, for my case would not
bear much inquiry.

I picked out my man without much difficulty, by the judgment I made of
his way of courting me. I had let him run on with his protestations
and oaths that he loved me above all the world; that if I would make
him happy, that was enough; all which I knew was upon supposition, nay,
it was upon a full satisfaction, that I was very rich, though I never
told him a word of it myself.

This was my man; but I was to try him to the bottom, and indeed in that
consisted my safety; for if he baulked, I knew I was undone, as surely
as he was undone if he took me; and if I did not make some scruple
about his fortune, it was the way to lead him to raise some about mine;
and first, therefore, I pretended on all occasions to doubt his
sincerity, and told him, perhaps he only courted me for my fortune. He
stopped my mouth in that part with the thunder of his protestations, as
above, but still I pretended to doubt.

One morning he pulls off his diamond ring, and writes upon the glass of
the sash in my chamber this line--

'You I love, and you alone.'

I read it, and asked him to lend me his ring, with which I wrote under
it, thus--

'And so in love says every one.'

He takes his ring again, and writes another line thus--

'Virtue alone is an estate.'

I borrowed it again, and I wrote under it--

'But money's virtue, gold is fate.'

He coloured as red as fire to see me turn so quick upon him, and in a
kind of a rage told me he would conquer me, and writes again thus--

'I scorn your gold, and yet I love.'

I ventured all upon the last cast of poetry, as you'll see, for I wrote
boldly under his last--

'I'm poor: let's see how kind you'll prove.'

This was a sad truth to me; whether he believed me or no, I could not
tell; I supposed then that he did not. However, he flew to me, took me
in his arms, and, kissing me very eagerly, and with the greatest
passion imaginable, he held me fast till he called for a pen an