n saints, or with foul ink requite
The milk they lent us.
Yours was the nobler birth,
For you from man were made--man but of earth--
The son of dust!

ALDA.

What's this?

MEDON.

"Only a rhyme I learned from one I talked withal;" 'tis a quotation from
some old poet that has fixed itself in my memory--from Randolph, I
think.

ALDA.

'Tis very justly thought, and very politely quoted, and my best courtesy
is due to him and to you:--but now will you listen to me?

MEDON.

With most profound humility.

ALDA.

Nay, then! I have done, unless you will lay aside these mock airs of
gallantry, and listen to me for a moment! Is it fair to bring a
second-hand accusation against me, and not attend to my defence?

MEDON.

Well, I will be serious.

ALDA.

Do so, and let us talk like reasonable beings.

MEDON.

Then tell me, (as a reasonable woman you will not be affronted with the
question,) do you really expect that any one will read this little book
of yours?

ALDA.

I might answer, that it has been a great source of amusement and
interest to me for several months, and that so far I am content: but no
one writes a book without a hope of finding readers, and I shall find a
few. Accident first made me an authoress; and not now, nor ever, have I
written to flatter any prevailing fashion of the day for the sake of
profit, though this is done, I know, by many who have less excuse for
thus coining their brains. This little book was undertaken without a
thought of fame or money: out of the fulness of my own heart and soul
have I written it. In the pleasure it has given me, in the new and
various views of human nature it has opened to me, in the beautiful and
soothing images it has placed before me, in the exercise and improvement
of my own faculties, I have already been repaid: if praise or profit
come beside, they come as a surplus. I should be gratified and grateful,
but I have not sought for them, nor worked for them. Do you believe
this?

MEDON.

I do: in this I cannot suspect you of affectation, for the profession of
disinterestedness is uncalled for, and the contrary would be too far
countenanced by the custom of the day to be matter of reserve or
reproach. But how could