. . heavens! have you . . .
HOMEWARE:
Surely the old fox,
In all I have read, is wiser than the young:
And if there is a game for fox to play,
Old fox plays cunningest.
ASTRAEA:
Why fox? Oh! uncle,
You make my heart beat with your mystery;
I never did love riddles. Why sit they
Awaiting me, and looking terrible?
HOMEWARE:
It is reported of an ancient folk
Which worshipped idols, that upon a day
Their idol pitched before them on the floor
ASTRAEA:
Was ever so ridiculous a tale!
HOMEWARE
To call the attendant fires to account
Their elders forthwith sat . . .
ASTRAEA:
Is there no prayer
Will move you, uncle Homeware?
HOMEWARE:
God-daughter,
This gentleman for you I have proposed
As husband.
ASTRAEA:
Arden! we are lost.
ARDEN:
Astraea!
Support him! Though I knew not his design,
It plants me in mid-heaven.
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