 your Domino. Indeed, I cannot, it was torn to Fritters in a Scuffle as I came out from the last Masquerade. Lend me your Mask then. That, too, was lost at the same time, but what occasion can you have for a Mask,
Hardy?
I am sure no One will take that for a natural Face. Mine is the Face of
Mars, Hilton,
yours that of
Adonis,
with which no Modern
Venus
will ever be sinitten, I promise you. I will engage to outrival an Army of such Jackanapes in an Assault on the Fair. If Impudence may compensate for the Want of other Artillery, I believe you may do Wonders,
Hardy.
And it does compensate, my Friend. Women, take my Word and Experience for it, love nothing of their own Resemblance, except in the Glass. They detest any thing that looks like an Ambiguity in the Sex. While what you are pleased to call Impudence,
Jack,
spares their Modesty, saves them the Appearance of an Advance on their Part, and gives them the Pleasure of piquing themselves on their extraordinary Virtue, in Case they should happen to make a Defence. However, since you have complimented me, on my Assurance, I will put it to the Test on this Occasion; and go to his Excellency's Ball, without any other Vizard save this which Nature, in her great Bounty, hath bestowed.
When our Company were on the Return to their Lodgings,
Harry,
said Mr.
Fenton,
would you not like to go to this Masquerade? Why, Sir, as I have not yet seen One, perhaps it might not be amiss to satisfy my Curiosity for once in my Life. In Truth, said Mr.
Fenton,
I wish they never had been introduced into this Kingdom, as they are Inlets to Intrigue, and give Countenance to Licentiousness. However, for once in your Life, as you say, you shall be gratified, my
Harry.
Be pleased to tell me, Sir, are they very entertaining? They would be extremely diverting, my Dear, if People acted up to the Characters that they pretend to represent. But, on the contrary, they have Sailors who don't know a Point in the Compass or the Name of a Rope in the Ship. Shepherds and Shepherdesses who never eloped from the cockney Dialect of the City. Indian Queens who can say nothing as to their Subjects or their Sovereignty. Gods and Goddesses totally ignorant of their own History in the Mythology. And
Italian
Cardinals who will swear you in the Phrase of a
Yorkshire
Foxhunter
