SCENE V.


[To them] FORESIGHT.

FORE. O Mr Tattle, your servant, you are a close man; but methinks
your love to my daughter was a secret I might have been trusted
with. Or had you a mind to try if I could discover it by my art?
Hum, ha! I think there is something in your physiognomy that has a
resemblance of her; and the girl is like me.

TATT. And so you would infer that you and I are alike? What does
the old prig mean? I'll banter him, and laugh at him, and leave
him. [Aside.] I fancy you have a wrong notion of faces.

FORE. How? What? A wrong notion? How so?

TATT. In the way of art: I have some taking features, not obvious
to vulgar eyes, that are indications of a sudden turn of good
fortune in the lottery of wives, and promise a great beauty and
great fortune reserved alone for me, by a private intrigue of
destiny, kept secret from the piercing eye of perspicuity, from all
astrologers, and the stars themselves.

FORE. How! I will make it appear that what you say is impossible.

TATT. Sir, I beg your pardon, I'm in haste -