But it will not do.

She still continues absolute mistress of my affections.

I sometimes think, if I can obtain her in no other way, I shall be rash enough to marry her." "Pshaw! this must never be," said Etherege.
"Were I to lose her altogether, I should be inconsolable," cried Rochester.
"As inconsolable as I am for the rich widow of Watling-street, who died a fortnight ago of the plague, and left her wealth to her footman," replied Pillichody, drawing forth his handkerchief and applying it to his eyes--"oh! oh!" "Silence, fool!" cried Rochester: "I am in no mood for buffoonery.

If you shed tears for any one, it should be for your master." "Truly, I am grieved for him," replied Pillichody; "but I object to the term 'master.' Sir Paul Parravicin, as he chooses to be called, is my patron, not my master.

He permits me a very close familiarity, not to say friendship." "Well, then, your patron," rejoined Rochester, scornfully.