ing the banns, because they
averred it was a heathenish name; parents have lingered their
consent, because they suspected it was a fictitious name; and rivals
have declined my challenges, because they pretended it was an
ungentlemanly name.

_Belvil_. Ha, ha, ha! but what course do you mean to pursue?

_Mr. H_. To engage the affections of some generous girl, who will be
content to take me as Mr. H.

_Belvil_. Mr. H.?

_Mr. H_. Yes, that is the name I go by here; you know one likes to be
as near the truth as possible.

_Belvil_. Certainly. But what then? to get her to consent--

_Mr. H_. To accompany me to the altar without a name--in short, to
suspend her curiosity (that is all) till the moment the priest shall
pronounce the irrevocable charm, which makes two names one.

_Belvil_. And that name--and then she must be pleased, ha, Jack?

_Mr. H_. Exactly such a girl it has been my fortune to meet with;
hark'e (_whispers_)--(_musing_). Yet, hang it! 'tis cruel to betray
her confidence.

_Belvil_. But the family-name, Jack?

_Mr. H_. As you say, the family-name must be perpetuated.

_Belvil._ Though it be but a homely one.

_Mr. H._ True; but come, I will show you the house where dwells this
credulous melting fair.

_Belvil._ Ha, ha! my old friend dwindled down to one letter.

[_Exeunt._

SCENE._-An Apartment in_ MELESINDA'S _House._
MELESINDA _sola, as if musing._

_Melesinda._ H, H, H. Sure it must be something precious by its being
concealed. It can't be Homer, that is a Heathen's name; nor Horatio,
that is no surname: what if it be Hamlet? the Lord Hamlet--pretty,
and I his poor distracted Ophelia! No,'tis none of these; 'tis
Harcourt or Hargrave, or some such sounding name, or Howard,
high-born Howard, that would do; maybe it is Harley, methinks my H.
resembles Harley, the feeling Harley. But I hear him! and from his
own lips I will once forever be resolved.

_Enter Mr. H._

_Mr. H._ My dear Melesinda.

_Melesinda._ My dear H. that is all you give me power to swear
allegiance to,--to be enamored of inarticulate sounds, and call with
sighs upon an empty letter. But I will know.

_Mr. H._ My dear Melesinda, press me no more for the disclosure of
that, which in the face of day so soon must be revealed. Call it
whim, humor, caprice, in me. Suppose, I have sworn an oath, never,
till the ceremony of our marriage is over, to dis