—— —— —— —— L. Piz. The Devil take this Fellow——and yet methinks I love him for his Indifferency——[Aside.] You talk as if you were unskill'd in the Art of Love: Don't you know that Expectation feeds more than twenty tasted Pleasures? —— —— Lud. Hum——some Sort of Fops it may: But I'm none of those——I never give my Opinion of a Dish till I've tasted; neither do I care to dine often on one Sort of Meat without changing the Sauce——But when that Cloud's withdrawn, how long I shall keep my Resolution I know not. —— —— —— L. Piz. Say you so! Why then the only Way to preserve your Appetite is to feed you slenderly; or only let you see the food, but not to taste. Lud. Faith, Madam, I'm no Camelion, but Flesh and Blood——Therefore these Prescriptions are of no Use——One Sight of that dear charming Face of your's, would be more obliging to your humble Servant. —— —— L. Piz. unmasks. Well, Sir, what think you? Is there any thing in this Face worth your Regard? Lud. Ah! by Heaven, an Angel——Oh! Madam, now blame yourself for my Neglect, for had you sent the Picture of her, in whom all those Beauties center, I had in this Place waited the Coming of my Goddess, or rather flown on the Wings of eager Love, to meet my Fair, tho' in the Arms of ten thousand Dangers——Say, my charming Angel, do you forgive me? But why do I ask? your Eyes assure me you do; at least I'll force a Pardon from these dear, soft, ruby Lips. —— ——
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