SCENE III.--LORD BRUMPTON'S _House.

_Enter_ Widow, _in deep mourning, with a dead squirrel on her arm, and_ TATTLEAID.

_Wid._ It must be so; it must be your carelessness. What had the page to do in my bedchamber?

_Tat._ Indeed, madam, I can't tell. But I came in and catched him wringing round his neck----

_Wid._ Tell the rascal from me he shall romp with the footmen no more. No; I'll send the rogue in a frock to learn Latin among the dirty boys that come to good, I will. But 'tis ever so among these creatures that live on one's superfluous affections; a lady's woman, page, and squirrel are always rivals.

Poor harmless animal--pretty e'en in death: Death might have overlooked thy little life-- How could'st thou, Robin, leave thy nuts and me? How was't importunate, dearest, thou should'st die? Thou never did'st invade thy neighbour's soils; Never mad'st war with specious shows of peace; Thou never hast depopulated regions, But cheerfully did'st bear thy little chain, Content--so I but fed thee with this hand.

_Tat._ Alas, alas! we are all mortal. Consider, madam, my lord's dead too. [_Weeps._

_Wid._ Ay, but our animal friends do wholly die; an husband or relation, after death, is rewarded or tormented; that's some consolation--I know her tears are false, for she hated Robin always; but she's a well-bred, dishonest servant, that never speaks a painful truth. [_Aside._]--But I'll resolve to conquer my affliction--never speak more of Robin--hide him there. But to my dress: How soberly magnificent is black--and the train--I wonder how widows came to wear such long tails?

_Tat._ Why, madam, the stateliest of all creatures has the longest tail; the peacock, nay, 't has of all creatures the finest mien too--except your ladyship, who are a Phœnix----

_Wid._ Ho! brave Tattleaid! But did not you observe what a whining my Lady Sly made when she had drank a little? Did you believe her? Do you think there are really people sorry for their husbands?

_Tat._ Really, madam, some men do leave their fortunes in such distraction that I believe it may be----[_Speaks with pins in her mouth._

_Wid._ But I swear I wonder how it came up to dress us thus. I protest, when all my equipage is ready, and I move in full pageantry, I shall fancy myself an embassadress from the Commonwealth of Women, the distressed State of Amazonia--to treat for men. But I protest I wonder how two of us thus clad can meet with a grave face! Methinks they should laugh out like two fortune-tellers, or two opponent lawyers that know each other for cheats----

_Tat._ Ha! ha! ha! I swear to you, madam, your ladyship's wit will choke me one time or other. I had like to have swallowed all the pins in my mouth----

_Wid._ But, Tatty, to keep house six weeks, that's another barbarous custom; but the reason of it, I suppose, was that the base people should not see people of quality may be as afflicted as themselves.

_Tat._ No, 'tis because they should not see 'em as merry as themselves.

_Wid._ Ha! ha! ha! Hussy, you never said that you spoke last. Why, 'tis just--'tis satire--I'm sure you saw it in my face, that I was going to say it: 'Twas too good for you. Come, lay down that sentence and the pin-cushion, and pin up my shoulder. Harkee, hussy, if you should, as I hope you won't, outlive me, take care I ain't buried in flannel; 'twould never become me, I'm sure.[32] That they can be as merry: Well, I'll tell my new acquaintance--what's her name?--she that reads so much, and writes verses. Her husband was deaf the first quarter of a year; I forget her name. That expression she'll like. Well, that woman does divert me strangely; I'll be very great with her. She talked very learnedly of the ridicule till she was ridiculous; then she spoke of the decent, of the agreeable, of the insensible. She designs to print the discourse; but of all things, I like her notion of the insensible.

_Tat._ Pray, madam, how was that?

_Wid._ A most useful discourse to be inculcated in our teens. The purpose of it is to disguise our apprehension in this ill-bred generation of men, who speak before women what they ought not to hear. As now, suppose you were a spark in my company, and you spoke some double entendre, I look thus! But be a fellow, and you shall see how I'll use you. The insensible is useful upon any occasion where we seemingly neglect and secretly approve, which is our ordinary common case. Now, suppose a coxcomb, dancing, prating, and playing his tricks before me to move me, without pleasure or distaste in my countenance, I look at him, just thus; but----Ha! ha! ha! I have found out a supplement to this notion of the insensible, for my own use, which is infallible, and that is to have always in my head all that they can say or do to me. So never be surprised with laughter, the occasion of which is always sudden.

_Tat._ Oh! my Lady Brumpton [TATTLEAID _bows and cringes_], my lady, your most obedient servant.

_Wid._ Look you, wench, you see by the art of insensibility I put you out of countenance, though you were prepared for an ill-reception.

_Tat._ Oh! madam, how justly are you formed for what is now fallen to you--the empire of mankind.

_Wid._ Oh! sir, that puts me out of all my insensibility at once; that was so gallant--Ha! what noise is that; that noise of fighting? Run, I say. Whither are you going? What, are you mad? Will you leave me alone? Can't you stir? What, you can't take your message with you? Whatever 'tis, I suppose you are not in the plot; not you--Nor that now they're breaking open my house for Sharlot--Not you--Go, see what's the matter, I say, I have nobody I can trust. [_Exit_ TATTLEAID] One minute I think this wench honest, and the next false. Whither shall I turn me?

_Tat._ Madam, madam. [_Re-entering._

_Wid._ Madam, madam, will you swallow me gaping?

_Tat._ Pray, good my lady, be not so out of humour; but there is a company of rogues have set upon our servants and the burial man's, while others ran away with the corpse.

_Wid._ How, what can this mean? What can they do with it?--Well, 'twill save the charge of interment--But to what end?

_Enter_ TRUSTY _and a_ SERVANT, _bloody and dirty, haling in_ CLUMP _and_ BUMPKIN.

_Ser._ I'll teach you better manners; I'll poor soldier you, you dog you, I will. Madam, here are two of the rascals that were in the gang of rogues that carried away the corpse.

_Wid._ We'll examine 'em apart. Well, sirrah, what are you? Whence came you? What's your name, sirrah? [CLUMP _makes signs as a dumb man._

_Ser._ Oh, you dog, you could speak loud enough just now, sirrah, when your brother rogues mauled Mr. Sable. We'll make you speak, sirrah.

_Wid._ Bring the other fellow hither. I suppose you will own you knew that man before you saw him at my door?

_Clump._ I think I have seen the gentleman's face. [_Bowing to_ BUMPKIN.

_Wid._ The gentleman's! The villain mocks me. But friend, you look like an honest man--what are you? Whence came you? What are you, friend?

_Bump._ I'se at present but a private gentleman, but I was lifted to be a sergeant in my Lord Hardy's Company. I'se not ashamed of my name nor of my koptin.

_Wid._ Leave the room all. [_Exeunt all but_ TRUSTY _and_ TATTLEAID.] Mr. Trusty--Lord Hardy! O, that impious young man, thus, with the sacrilegious hands of ruffians to divert his father's ashes from their urn and rest--I suspect this fellow [_Aside._]--Mr. Trusty, I must desire you to be still near me. I'll know the bottom of this; and to Lord Hardy's lodgings as I am, instantly. 'Tis but the back side of this street, I think. Let a coach be called.--Tattleaid, as soon as I am gone, conduct my brother and his friends to Lady Sharlot. Away with her. Bring mademoiselle away to me, that she may not be a witness.--Come, good Mr. Trusty.