BOOK XIII. CONTAINING THE SPACE OF TWELVE DAYS.
7. Chapter vii. Containing the whole humours of a masquerade.
Containing the whole humours of a masquerade.
Our cavaliers now arrived at that temple, where Heydegger, the great
Arbiter Deliciarum, the great high-priest of pleasure, presides; and,
like other heathen priests, imposes on his votaries by the pretended
presence of the deity, when in reality no such deity is there.
Mr Nightingale, having taken a turn or two with his companion, soon
left him, and walked off with a female, saying, "Now you are here,
sir, you must beat about for your own game."
Jones began to entertain strong hopes that his Sophia was present; and
these hopes gave him more spirits than the lights, the music, and the
company; though these are pretty strong antidotes against the spleen.
He now accosted every woman he saw, whose stature, shape, or air, bore
any resemblance to his angel. To all of whom he endeavoured to say
something smart, in order to engage an answer, by which he might
discover that voice which he thought it impossible he should mistake.
Some of these answered by a question, in a squeaking voice, Do you
know me? Much the greater number said, I don't know you, sir, and
nothing more. Some called him an impertinent fellow; some made him no
answer at all; some said, Indeed I don't know your voice, and I shall
have nothing to say to you; and many gave him as kind answers as he
could wish, but not in the voice he desired to hear.
Whilst he was talking with one of these last (who was in the habit of
a shepherdess) a lady in a domino came up to him, and slapping him on
the shoulder, whispered him, at the same time, in the ear, "If you
talk any longer with that trollop, I will acquaint Miss Western."
Jones no sooner heard that name, than, immediately quitting his former
companion, he applied to the domino, begging and entreating her to
show him the lady she had mentioned, if she was then in the room.