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kind for the rest of the day; and, at night, my kind little friends present you to me again; renew every pleasing idea; revive the most delightful images; and paint you to me—just such as I see you at this moment!"
Juliet, embarrassed, talked of returning to the house.
"Do you blush?" cried he, with quickness, and evidently increasing admiration; "is it possible that you are not enough habituated to praise, to hear it without modest confusion? I have seen 'full many a lady—but you—O you!—so perfect and so peerless are created, of every creature best!'[1]
"My whole life has been spent in worshipping beauty, till within these very few years, when I have gotten something like a surfeit, and meant to give it over. For I have watched and followed Beauties, till I have grown sick of them. I have admired fine features, only to be disgusted with vapid vanity. A face with
