Hobart, who had not much confidence in her promises never more to speak
to him, narrowly watched her. Miss Temple never in her life appeared so
handsome every person complimented her upon it; but she received all the
civilities with such an air, that every one thought she was mad; for when
they commended her shape, her fresh complexion, and the brilliancy of her
eyes: "Pshaw," said she, "it is very well known that I am but a monster,
and formed in no respect like other women: all is not gold that glisters;
and though I may receive some compliments in public, it signifies
nothing." All Miss Hobart's endeavours to stop her tongue were
ineffectual; and continuing to rail at herself ironically, the whole
court was puzzled to comprehend her meaning.

When Lord Rochester came in, she first blushed, then turned pale, made a
motion to go towards him, drew back again, pulled her gloves one after
the other up to the elbow; and after having three times violently flirted
her fan, she waited until he paid his compliments to her as usual, and as
soon as he began to bow, the fair one immediately turned her back upon
him. Rochester only smiled, and being resolved that her resentment
should be still more remarked, he turned round and posting himself face
to face: "Madam," said he, "nothing can be so glorious as to look so
charming as you do, after such a fatiguing day: to support a ride of
three long hours, and Miss Hobart afterwards, without being tired,
shows indeed a very strong constitution."

Miss Temple had naturally a tender look, but she was transported with
such a violent passion at his having the audacity to speak to her, that
her eyes appeared like two fireballs when she turned them upon him.
Hobart pinched her arm, as she perceived that this look was likely to be
followed by a torrent of reproaches and invectives.