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 -
FORE. For what?
TATT. To be married, sir, married.
FORE. Ay, but pray take me along with you, sir -
TATT. No, sir; 'tis to be done privately. I never make confidants.
FORE. Well, but my consent, I mean. You won't marry my daughter
without my consent?
TATT. Who? I, sir? I'm an absolute stranger to you and your
daughter, sir.
FORE. Hey day! What time of the moon is this?
TATT.
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