Sir _Geo._ Were they more brittle than _China_, and drop'd to pieces
with a Touch, every Atom of her I have ventur'd at, if she is but
Mistress of thy Wit, ballances Ten times the Sum--Prithee let me see thy
Face.

_Miran._ By no means, that may spoil your Opinion of my Sense--

Sir _Geo._ Rather confirm it, Madam.

_Patch._ So rob the Lady of your Gallantry, Sir.

Sir _Geo._ No Child, a Dish of Chocolate in the Morning never spoils my
Dinner; the other Lady, I design a set Meal; so there's no danger--

_Miran._ Matrimony! Ha, ha, ha; what Crimes have you committed against
the God of Love, that he should revenge 'em so severely to stamp Husband
upon your Forehead--

Sir _Geo._ For my Folly in having so often met you here, without
pursuing the Laws of Nature, and exercising her command--But I resolve
e'er we part now, to know who you are, where you live, and what kind of
Flesh and Blood your Face is; therefore unmask and don't put me to the
trouble of doing it for you.

_Miran._ My Face is the same Flesh and Blood with my Hand, Sir _George_,
which if you'll be so rude to provoke.

Sir _Geo._ You'll apply it to my Cheek--The Ladies Favours are always
Welcome; but I must have that Cloud withdrawn. (_Taking hold of her_.)
Remember you are in the _Park_, Child, and what a terrible thing would