Enter HARRIET and YOUNG BELLAIR, she pulling him.
HAR. Come along.
Y. BELL. And leave your mother!
HAR. Busy will be sent with a hue and cry after us, but that's no matter.
Y. BELL. 'Twill look strangely in me. 5
HAR. She'll believe it a freak of mine and never blame your manners.
Y. BELL. What reverend acquaintance is that she has met?
HAR. A fellow-beauty of the last king's time,110 though by the ruins you would hardly guess it.
Enter DORIMANT and crosses the stage.
Enter YOUNG BELLAIR and HARRIET.
Y. BELL. By this time your mother is in a fine taking.
HAR. If your friend Mr. Dorimant were but here now, that she might find me talking with him! 15
Y. BELL. She does not know him, but dreads him, I hear, of all mankind.
HAR. She concludes if he does but speak to a woman, she's undone -- is on her knees every day to pray heaven defend me from him. 20
Y. BELL. You do not apprehend him so much as she does?
HAR. I never saw anything in him that was frightful.
Y. BELL. On the contrary, have you not 25 observed something extreme delightful in his wit and person?
HAR. He's agreeable and pleasant, I must own, but he does so much affect being so, he displeases me.
Y. BELL. Lord, madam! all he does and says 30 is so easy and so natural.
HAR. Some men's verses seem so to the unskillful, but labor i'the one and affectation in the other to the judicious plainly appear.
Y. BELL. I never heard him accused of af 35 fectation before.
Enter DORIMANT and stares upon her.
HAR. It passes on the easy town, who are favorably pleased in him to call it humor.
[Exeunt YOUNG BELLAM and HARRIET.]
DOR. 'Tis she! it must be she -- that lovely hair, that easy shape, those wanton eyes, and all 40 those melting charms about her mouth which Medley spoke of! I'll follow the lottery and put in for a prize with my friend Bellair.
Exit DORIMANT repeating:
In love the victors from the vanquished fly; They fly that wound, and they pursue that die.245
Enter YOUNG BELLAIR and HARRIET and after them DORIMANT standing at a distance.
Y. BELL. Most people prefer High Park3 to this place.
HAR. It has the better reputation, I confess; but I abominate the dull diversions there -- the formal bows, the affected smiles, the silly by-words 50 and amorous tweers4 in passing. Here one meets with a little conversation now and then.
Y. BELL. These conversations have been fatal to some of your sex, madam.
HAR. It may be so; because some who 55 want temper5 have been undone by gaming, must others who have it wholly deny themselves the pleasure of play?
DOR. (coming up gently and bowing to her). Trust me, it were unreasonable, madam. 60
HAR. (she starts and looks grave). Lord, who's this?
Y. BELL. Dorimant!
DOR. Is this the woman your father would have you marry?
Y. BELL. It is. 65
DOR. Her name?
Y. BELL. Harriet.
DOR. I am not mistaken; she's handsome.
Y. BELL. Talk to her; her wit is better than her face. We were wishing for you but now. 70
DOR. (to HARRIET). Overcast with seriousness o'the sudden! A thousand smiles were shining in that face but now; I never saw so quick a change of weather.
HAR. (aside). I feel as great a change within, 75 but he shall never know it.
DOR. You were talking of play, madam. Pray, what may be your stint?6
HAR. A little harmless discourse in public walks, or at most an appointment in a box, barefaced, 80at the playhouse: you are for masks and private meetings, where women engage for all they are worth, I hear.
DOR. I have been used to deep play, but I can make one at small game when I like my gamester 85 well.
HAR. And be so unconcerned you'll ha' no pleasure in't.
DOR. Where there is a considerable sum to be won, the hope of drawing people in makes every 90 trifle considerable.
HAR. The sordidness of men's natures, I know,____________________