e a very pretty hand--and very
white--and the shape! Faith! I never minded it so much before! In
my opinion it is a very fine shaped hand, and becomes a diamond
ring as well as the first grandee's in Portugal.

_Flo._ The man's transported! Is this your love? This your
impatience?

_Liss._ (_Takes snuff._) Now in my mind, I take snuff with a very
jaunty air. Well, I am persuaded I want nothing but a coach and a
title to make me a very fine gentleman.

(_Struts about._)

_Flo._ Sweet Mr. Lissardo, (_curtseying_,) if I may presume to
speak to you, without affronting your little finger--

_Liss._ Do so, Madam, I ask your pardon. Is it to me or to the ring
you direct your discourse, Madam?

_Flo._ Madam! Good lack! how much a diamond ring improves one!

_Liss._ Why, tho' I say it, I can carry myself as well as anybody.
But what wert thou going to say, child?

_Flo._ Why, I was going to say, that I fancy you had best let me
keep that ring; it will be a very pretty wedding-ring.

_Liss._ Would it not? Humph! Ah! But--but--but--I believe I shan't
marry yet a while.

_Flo._ You shan't, you say; very well! I suppose you design that
ring for Inis?

_Liss._ No, no, I never bribe an old acquaintance. Perhaps I might
let it sparkle in the eyes of a stranger a little, till we come to
a right understanding. But then, like all other mortal things, it
would return from whence it came.

_Flo._ Insolent! Is that your manner of dealing?

_Liss._ With all but thee--kiss me, you little rogue, you.

(_Hugging her._)

_Flo._ Little rogue! Prithee, fellow, don't be so familiar,
(_pushing him away_,) if I mayn't keep your ring, I can keep my
kisses.

_Liss._ You can, you say! Spoke with the air of a chambermaid.

_Flo._ Reply'd with the spirit of a serving-man.

D'Urfey is said to have been the first, and Carey the last of those who
at this period united the professions of musician, dramatist and song
writer. The latter was the natural son of the Marquis of Halifax, who
presented the crown to William III. He wrote the popular song "Sally in
our Alley," and ridiculed Ambrose Philips in a poem called "Namby
Pamby." Overcome either by embarrassed circumstances, or the envy of
rivals, he died by his own hand in 1743. He has much that is clever
mingled with ext