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 p.r.o.nounce 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, heark'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 shew 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; may be it is Harley, methinks my H. resembles Harley, the feeling Harley. But I hear him, and from his own lips I will once for ever 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 enamoured 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, humour, caprice, in me. Suppose I have sworn an oath, never, till the ceremony of our marriage is over, to disclose my true name.

MELESINDA Oh! H.H.H. I cherish here a fire of restless curiosity which consumes me. 'Tis appet.i.te, pa.s.sion, call it whim, caprice, in me. Suppose I have sworn I must and will know it this very night.

MR. H.

Ungenerous Melesinda! I implore you to give me this one proof of your confidence. The holy vow once past, your H. shall not have a secret to withhold.

MELESINDA My H. has overcome: his Melesinda shall pine away and die, before she dare express a saucy inclination; but what shall I call you till we are married?

MR. H.

Call me? call me any thing, call me Love, Love! aye, Love, Love will do very well.

MELESINDA How many syllables is it, Love?

MR. H.

How many? ud, that is coming to the question with a vengeance. One, two, three, four,--what does it signify how many syllables?

MELESINDA How many syllables, Love?

MR. H.

My Melesinda's mind, I had hoped, was superior to this childish curiosity.

MELESINDA How many letters are there in it?

[_Exit_ MR. H. _followed by_ MELESINDA _repeating the question_.]

SCENE.--_A Room in the Inn. (Two Waiters disputing._)

FIRST WAITER Sir Harbottle Hammond, you may depend upon it.

SECOND WAITER Sir Hardy Hardcastle, I tell you.

FIRST WAITER The Hammonds of Huntingdonshire.

SECOND WAITER The Hardcastles of Hertfordshire.

FIRST WAITER The Hammonds.

SECOND WAITER Don't tell me: does not Hardcastle begin with an H?

FIRST WAITER So does Hammond for that matter.

SECOND WAITER Faith, so it does if you go to spell it. I did not think of that. I begin to be of your opinion; he is certainly a Hammond.

FIRST WAITER Here comes Susan Chambermaid, may be she can tell.