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Show 50 The Recruiting Officer. Mel. Don't fear, Fool; do you think, Sir, that becaufe I a m a W o m a n , I'm to be fool'd out of m y Reafon, or frighted out of my Senfes ? Come, fhew m e this Devil. Kite. He's a little bufie at prefent; but when he has done, he fhall wait on you. Mel. What is he doing ? Kite. Writing your N a m e in bis Pocket-Book. Mel. Ha, ha! m y N a m e ! Pray, what have you, or he, to do with m y Name ? Kite. Look'e, fair Lady the Devil is a very modeft Perfon , he feeks no body, unlefs they feek him firft; he's chain'd up, like a Maftiff, and can't ftir, unlefs he be let loofe. You come to m e to have your Fortune told D o you think, M a d a m , that I can anfwer you of m y own Head ? No, M a d a m , the Affairs of W o m e n are fo irregular, that nothing lefs than the Devil can give any account of them. N o w to convince you of your Incredulity , I'll fhew you a Trial of m y Skill. • Here, you Cacodemo del Plumo exert your Power, draw m e this Lady's Name, the word Melinda, in proper Letters and Characters of her o w n Hand- Writing doit at three Motions one two three 'tis done • Now, Madam, will you pleafe to lend your Maid to fetch it? Luc. I fetch it! the Devil fetch m e if I do. Mel. M y N a m e in m y own Hand-Writing ! that wou'd be convincing indeed. Kite. Seeing's believing. [Goes to the Table, lifts up the Carpet] Here, Tre, Tre, poor Tre, give m e the Bone, Sirrah. There's your N a m e upon that fquare piece of Paper, behold Mel. 'Tis wonderful! m y very Letters to a tittle. Luc. 'Tis like your Hand, Madam, but not fo like your Hand neither, and now I look nearer, 'tis not like your Hand at all. Kite. Here's a Chamber-maid now will out-lie the Devil! Luc. Look'e,Madam,they fha'n'timpofe upon us; People can't remember their Hands no more than they can their Faces. Come, Madam, let us be certain, write your N a me upon this Paper, then we'll compare the two Names. [Takes out a Paper, and folds it. Kite. Any thing for your fatisfaction, M a d a m here's Pen and Ink. [Melinda writes, Lucy holds the Paper. Luc. Let me fee it, Madam, 'tis the fame the very fame <- r~ But I'll fecuve one Copy for m y own Affairs. [Afide. MA. This is L>emonftratton. Kite. |