SCENE II.--_Ludgate-hill.

A front drawing-room; furniture French-polished, red silk window-curtains, and green sun-blinds; breakfast-table laid. Enter, from her boudoir, L. H. _Mrs. Clipclose_, fashionably dressed in pink gingham. She advances to the chimney-piece, and looks at an ormolu clock; her countenance showing surprise.

_Mrs. C._--What! not astir at almost twelve o'clock? (_Looks in the glass_). Upon my life, a most becoming frock! How late Bob sleeps! I think I'm getting fatter. We both were late. (_Noise heard._) I wonder what's the matter. I, at Vauxhall; and Bob, upon the batter. Heigh-ho! these men are very seldom true. I hope the captain recollects at two We meet at Charing-cross to drive to Kew. (_Opens the piano, and sits down._)

AIR--_Mrs. Clipclose._--("I met her at the Fancy fair.")

I met him in an omnibus: He spoke not; but his sparkling eyes Told the fond secret of his heart, And found an answer in my sighs.

(_Enter, from dressing-room_, R. H. _Young Clipclose, in a flowered morning-gown, and kid slippers. He yawns while arranging sundry rings upon his fingers._)

TRIO--_Mr. and Mrs. Clipclose, and Annette._

("Jenny put the kettle on.")

_Mr. C._

Dear me! my head is aching so, This soft white hand is shaking so; I sure must give up raking, O!

(_Politely turning to his lady._)

Good morning! Mistress C.

(_Annette appears at the door, back of the stage, as if answering the bell._)

_Mrs. C._ Netty, bring the muffins up, Put down the cream, and rince a cup; Your master's had an extra sup--

(_Looking archly at her husband._)

Ah! naughty Mister C.

_Annette_ (_aside, presenting a note to her mistress_).

The potboy brought this _billet-doux_. (_Aloud._) Oh, Lord! I hear a creaking shoe, And here will be a sweet too-roo, With grumpy Mister C.

_Mr. and Mrs. C., and Netty, together._

And here will be a sweet too-roo!

_Gruff voice outside._

I say, where's Bobby C.?

(_Enter, in a passion, Mr. Clipclose, senior._)

_Mr. C. sen._--I say, where's Bob? Not down at twelve o'clock! I thought to find the scoundrel taking stock; Or, at the counter, serving folks quite civil.

_Mrs. C._ (_pertly._)--He's going, sir.

(_Bob vanishes._)

_Mr. C. sen._ Ay! quickly, to the devil!

(_Turning angrily to Mrs. C._)

And you, gay madam! Zounds! this gown is new! What you wore yesterday was sprigged with blue. Upon the road to ruin, wives drive hard, When they wear chintz at eight-and-six a yard.

_Mrs. C._ (_disdainfully._)--If you would know the price, ask Miss Brocard.

_Mr. C. sen._--Hear, haughty madam, while my mind I speak, If Bob don't mend--(_a long pause_)--I'll marry this day week! I'll have boys too-- (_A sudden fit of coughing interrupts him._)

_Mrs. C._ (_sarcastically_).--I'm sure the spirit's willing.

_Mr. C. sen._--And I'll cut off your husband with a shilling!

(_Exit, in a desperate rage. Mrs. C. and Netty laugh immoderately._)

_Annette._--Why, bless us, madam, but the man's a bear! At eighty-one to threat us with an heir.

_Mrs. C._--Pish! 'tis mere dotage; his brains are in the moon.

(_Sits down to the piano._)

What shall I play, Net?

_Annette._ Play "_The Bold Dragoon_."

(_Music soft and expressive. The scene closes._)