ue, facon, penchant, coup
d'etourdy,_ and _ridicule._

_Mel._ Hold, hold; how did they begin?

_Phil._ They began at _sottises_, and ended _en ridicule_.

_Mel._ Now, give me your paper in my hand, and hold you my glass,
while I practise my postures for the day. [MELANTHA _laughs in the
glass._] How does that laugh become my face?

_Phil._ Sovereignly well, madam.

_Mel._ Sovereignly? Let me die, that's not amiss. That word shall not
be yours; I'll invent it, and bring it up myself: My new point gorget
shall be yours upon't. Not a word of the word, I charge you.

_Phil._ I am dumb, madam.

_Mel._ That glance, how suits it with my face?
[_Looking in the glass again._

_Phil._ 'Tis so _languissant_!

_Mel._ _Languissant!_ that word shall be mine too, and my last Indian
gown thine for't. That sigh? [_Looks again._

_Phil._ 'Twill make a man sigh, madam. 'Tis a mere _incendiary_.

_Mel._ Take my guimp petticoat for that truth. If thou hast most of
these phrases, let me die but I could give away all my wardrobe, and
go naked for them.

_Phil._ Go naked? Then you would be a Venus, madam. O Jupiter! what
had I forgot? This paper was given me by Rhodophil's page.

_Mel._ [_Reading the letter._] Beg the favour from you.--Gratify my
passion--so far--assignation--in the grotto--behind the terrace--clock
this evening--Well, for the _billets doux_ there is no man in Sicily
must dispute with Rhodophil; they are so French, so _gallant_, and so
_tendre_, that I cannot resist the temptation of the assignation. Now,
go you away, Philotis; it imports me to practise what to say to my
servant when I meet him. [_Exit_ PHILOTIS.] Rhodophil, you'll wonder
at my assurance to meet you here;--let me die, I am so out of breath
with coming, that I can render you no reason of it.--Then he will make
this _repartee_; Madam, I have no reason to accuse you for that which
is so great a favour to me.--Then I reply, But why have you drawn me
to this solitary place? Let me die, but I am apprehensive of some
violence from you.--Then says he, Solitude, madam, is most fit for
lovers; but by this fair hand--Nay, now I vow you're rude, sir. O fy,
fy, fy; I hope you'll be honourable?--You'd laugh at me if I should,
madam.--What, do you mean to throw me down thus? Ah me! ah! ah! ah!

_Enter_ POLYDAMAS, LEONIDAS, _and Guards._

O Venus! the king and court. Let me die, but I fear t