SCENE IV.--_Another part of the same.

_Enter_ LYDIA _and_ LEONORE.

_Lyd._ I wish I had not come hither to-night, Leonore.

_Leo._ Why did you, madam, if the place be so disagreeable to you?

_Lyd._ We cannot help visiting the place often where we have lost anything we value: I lost Ranger here last night.

_Leo._ You thought you had lost him before, a great while ago; and therefore you ought to be the less troubled.

_Lyd._ But 'twas here I missed him first, I'm sure.

_Leo._ Come, madam, let not the loss vex you; he is not worth the looking after.

_Lyd._ It cannot but vex me yet, if I lost him by my own fault.

_Leo._ You had but too much care to keep him.

_Lyd._ It often happens, indeed, that too much care is as bad as negligence; but I had rather be robbed than lose what I have carelessly.

_Leo._ But, I believe you would hang the thief if you could.

_Lyd._ Not if I could have my own again.

_Leo._ I see you would be too merciful.

_Lyd._ I wish I were tried.

_Leo._ But, madam, if you please, we will waive the discourse; for people seldom (I suppose) talk with pleasure of their real losses.

_Lyd._ 'Tis better than to ruminate on them; mine, I'm sure, will not out of head nor heart.

_Leo._ Grief is so far from retrieving a loss, that it makes it greater; but the way to lessen it is by a comparison with others' losses. Here are ladies in the Park of your acquaintance, I doubt not, can compare with you; pray, madam, let us walk and find 'em out.

_Lyd._ 'Tis the resentment, you say, makes the loss great or little; and then, I'm sure, there is none like mine: however, go on. [_Exeunt._