Cant. Your flatterie, my Lor, vil make me too prode.
Lord Ogle. The girl has ſome little partiality for me, to be ſure: but prithee, Cant, is not that Miſs Fanny yonder?
Cant. [looking with a glaſs.] En veritè, 'tis ſhe, my Lor—'tis one of de pigeons,—de pigeons d'amour.
Lord Ogle. Don't be ridiculous, you old monkey. [ſmiling.
Cant. I am monkeè, I am ole, but I have eye, I have ear, and a little underſtand, now and den.—
Lord Ogle. Taiſez vous bête!
Cant. Elle vous attend, my Lor.—She vil make a love to you.
Lord Ogle. Will ſhe? Have at her then! A fine girl can't oblige me more.—Egad, I find myſelf a little enjouée—come along, Cant! ſhe is but in the next walk—but there is ſuch a deal of this damned crinkum-crankum, as Sterling calls it, that one ſees people for half an hour before one can get to them—Allons, Monſ. Canton, allons donc!
Another part of the garden.
Lovewell, and Fanny.
Lovew. My dear Fanny, I cannot bear your diſtreſs; it overcomes all my reſolutions, and I am prepared for the diſcovery.
Fanny. But how can it be effected before my departure?
Lovew. I'll tell you.—Lord Ogleby ſeems to entertain a viſible partiality for you; and notwithſtanding the peculiarities of his behaviour, I am ſure that he is humane at the bottom. He is vain to an exceſs; but withall extremely good-natured, and would do any thing to recommend himſelf to a lady.—Do you open the whole affair of our marriage to him immediately. It will come with more irreſiſtible perſuaſion
