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Show 1 22 The Beaux Stratagem. 'Dor. I faw him too, Sifter, and with an Air that fhone, methought like Rays about his Perfon. Mrs. Sull. Well faid, up with it. Dor. N o forward Coquet Behaviour, no Airs to fet him off, no ftudy'd Looks nor artful Pofture, »but Nature did it al! Mrs. Sull. Better and better one Touch more come. Dor. But then his Looks did you obferve his Eyes? Mrs. Sull. Yes, yes, 1 did his Eyes, well, what of his Eyes? Dor. Sprightly, but not wandring; they feem'd to view, but never gaz'd on any thing but m e and then his Looks fo humble were, and yet fo noble, that they aim'd to tell me that he cou'd with Pride die at m y Feet, tho' he fcorn'd Slavery anv where elfe. Mrs. Sail. The Phyfick works purely How d'ye find your felf now, m y Dear? Dor. Heni! Much better, m y Dear O here comes our Mercury! [Enter Scrub.] Well, Scrub, what News of the Gentleman? Scrub. Madam, I have brought you a Packet of News. Dor. Open it quickly, come. Scrub. In the firft place I enquir'd who the Gentleman was? They told m e he was a Stranger. Secondly, I ask'd what the Gentleman was? They anfwer'd and faid, That they never faw him before. Thirdly, I enquir'd what Countryman he was? They reply'd, 'twas more than they knew. Fourthly, I demanded whence he came ? Their Anfwer was, they cou'd cot tell. And Fifthly, I ask'd whither he went ? And they reply'd they knew nothing of the Matter, • and this is all I cou'd learn. Mrs. Sull. But what do the People fay ? Can't they guefs ? Scrub. W h y fome think he's a Spy, fome guefs he's a Mountebank, fome fay one thing, fome another ; but for m y own part, I believe he's a Jefiiir. Dor. AJefuitl WliyaJefuit? Scrub. Becaufe he keeps his Horfes always ready fadled, and his Footman talks Irench. Mrs. Sull. His Footman! Scrub. Ay, he and the Count's Footman were gabbering French like two intrieguingDu ks in a Mill-Pond, and I believe they talk'dofme, for they laugji'd confumedly. Dor. |