S. Mrs. E---- has called for the Sir.
H. Oh! it is there. Let her wait a minute or two. I see this is a busy-day with you. How beautiful your arms look in those short sleeves!
S. I do not like to wear them.
H. Then that is because you are merciful, and would spare frail mortals who might die with gazing.
S. I have no power to kill.
H. You have, you have--Your charms are irresistible as your will is inexorable. I wish I could see you always thus. But I would have no one else see you so. I am jealous of all eyes but my own. I should almost like you to wear a veil, and to be muffled up from head to foot; but even if you were, and not a glimpse of you could be seen, it would be to no purpose--you would only have to move, and you would be admired as the most graceful creature in the world. You smile--Well, if you were to be won by fine speeches--
S. You could supply them!
H. It is however no laughing matter with me; thy beauty kills me daily, and I shall think of nothing but thy charms, till the last word trembles on my tongue, and that will be thy name, my love--the name of my Infelice! You will live by that name, you rogue, fifty years after you are dead. Don't you thank me for that?
S. I have no such ambition, Sir. But Mrs. E---- is waiting.
H. She is not in love, like me. You look so handsome to-day, I cannot let you go. You have got a colour.
S. But you say I look best when I am pale.
H. When you are pale, I think so; but when you have a colour, I then think you still more beautiful. It is you that I admire; and whatever you are, I like best. I like you as Miss L----, I should like you still more as Mrs. ----. I once thought you were half inclined to be a prude, and I admired you as a "pensive nun, devout and pure." I now think you are more than half a coquet, and I like you for your roguery. The truth is, I am in love with you, my angel; and whatever you are, is to me the perfection of thy sex. I care not what thou art, while thou art still thyself. Smile but so, and turn my heart to what shape you please!
S. I am afraid, Sir, Mrs. E---- will think you have forgotten her.
H. I had, my charmer. But go, and make her a sweet apology, all graceful as thou art. One kiss! Ah! ought I not to think myself the happiest of men?
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