Do you
know him?_ Then I, Sir, tips me the verger with half-a-crown; he
pockets the simony, and inducts me into the best pew in the church;
I pull out my snuff-box, turn myself round, bow to the bishop, or
the dean, if he be the commanding officer, single out a beauty,
rivet both my eyes to hers, set my nose a bleeding by the strength
of imagination, and show the whole church my concern--by my
endeavouring to hide it; after the sermon the whole town gives me
to her for a lover, and by persuading the lady that I am a-dying
for her, the tables are turned, and she in good earnest falls in
love with me.

_Archer._ There's nothing in this, Tom, without a precedent; but
instead of rivetting your eyes to a beauty, try to fix 'em upon a
fortune; that's our business at present.

_Aim._ Psha! no woman can be a beauty without a fortune. Let me
alone, for I am a marksman.

Talking afterwards of Dorinda, whom he observes in church, he says,

_Aimwell._ Call me Oroondates, Cesario, Amadis, all that romance
can in a lover paint, and then I'll answer:--O, Archer! I read her
thousands in her looks, she looked like Ceres in her harvest; corn,
wine and oil, milk and honey, gardens, groves, and purling streams
played in her plenteous face.

CHAPTER XI.

Congreve--Lord Dorset.

The birthplace of Congreve is uncertain, but he was born about 1671, and
was educated in Kilkenny and Dublin. He is an instance of that union of
Irish versatility with English reflection, which has produced the most
celebrated wits. We also mark in him a considerable improvement in
delicacy. "The Old Batchelor" was his first play, the success of which
was so great that Lord Halifax made him one of the commissioners for
licensing hackney-coaches; he afterwards gave him a place in the Pipe
Office and Custom House.

Belmour begins very suitably by saying--

"Come come, leave business to idlers, and wisdom to fools; they
have need of 'em. Wit be my faculty, and pleasure my occupation;
and let Father Time shake his glass."

Speaking of Belinda, he says--

"In my conscience I believe the baggage loves me, for she never
speaks well of me herself, nor suffers anybody else to rail at me."

Heartwell, an old bachelor, says--

"Women's asses bear great burdens; are forced to undergo dressing,
dancing, singing, sighing, w