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perfectly to contemplate the riches of that beautiful forehead. (Advancing towards her, while she retreats.) Music—the music of the soul. Colours—design—comprehensiveness! O! what a rich mine of charming capacity! Pray, permit—(putting out his hand to raise the hair from her forehead, as she has got to the wall, and can retreat no farther.)

Have the goodness, Sir, to stand farther off: it is not my head that my aunt wishes you to examine.

I am infinitely obliged to you, Doctor; but pray take no trouble with the head of this young lady, for her education is finished.

Is education ever finished, my good Madam, while one capacity remains unexplored and uncultivated? Our science is still in its infancy, and therefore the world is still in its infancy; talents wasted—time wasted—tuition wasted—reason wasted.