SCENE II.--LADY BRUMPTON'S _Room.

_Enter_ WIDOW _and_ TATTLEAID.

_Wid._ This was well done of you; be sure you take care of their young ladyships; you shall, I promise you, have a snip in the sale of 'em.

_Tat._ I thank your good ladyship.

_Wid._ Is that the porter's paper of how d'ye's?

_Tat._ Yes, madam, he just sent it up. His general answer is, that you're as well as can be expected in your condition, but that you see nobody.

_Wid._ That's right. [_Reading names._] Lady Riggle, Lady Formal--Oh! that Riggle, a pert ogler, an indiscreet silly thing, who is really known by no man, yet for her carriage, justly thought common to all; and as Formal has only the appearance of virtue, so she has only the appearance of vice. What chance, I wonder, put these contradictions to each other into the same coach, as you say they called? Mrs. Frances and Mrs. Winifred Glebe--who are they?

_Tat._ They are the country great fortunes have been out of town this whole year; they are those whom your ladyship said upon being very well born took upon 'em to be very ill bred.

_Wid._ Did I say so? really I think 'twas apt enough, now I remember 'em. Lady Wrinkle--oh, that smug old woman! There's no enduring her affectation of youth, but I plague her; I always ask whether her daughter in Wiltshire has a grandchild yet or not. Lady Worthy--I can't bear her company, she has so much of that virtue in her heart which I have in my mouth only. [_Aside._] Mrs. After-Day--oh that's she that was the great beauty, the mighty toast about town--that's just come out of the small-pox; she's horribly pitted they say; I long to see her and plague her with my condolence. 'Tis a pure ill-natured satisfaction to see one that was a beauty unfortunately move with the same languor and softness of behaviour that once was charming in her--to see, I say, her mortify that used to kill--ha! ha! ha! The rest are a catalogue of mere names or titles they were born to, an insipid crowd of neither good nor bad; but you are sure these other ladies suspect not in the least that I know of their coming?

_Tat._ No, dear madam, they are to ask for me.

_Wid._ I hear a coach. [_Exit_ TAT.] I've now an exquisite pleasure in the thought of surpassing my Lady Sly, who pretends to have out-grieved the whole town for her husband. They are certainly coming.--Oh no! here, let me--thus let me sit and think.

[WIDOW _on her couch; while she is raving as to herself,_ TATTLEAID _softly brings in the ladies._]

Wretched, disconsolate as I am! Oh welcome, welcome, dear killing anguish! Oh, that I could lie down and die in my present heaviness--but what--how? Nay, my dear, dear lord, why do you look so pale, so ghastly at me? Wottoo, wottoo, fright thy own trembling, shivering wife----

_Tat._ Nay, good madam, be comforted.

_Wid._ Thou shalt not have me. [_Pushes_ TAT.

_Tat._ Nay, good madam, 'tis I, 'tis I, your ladyship's own woman--'tis I, madam, that dress you, and talk to you, and tell you all that's done in the house every day; 'tis I----

_Wid._ Is it, then, possible? Is it, then, possible that I am left? Speak to me not--hold me not. I'll break the listening walls with my complaints. [_Looks surprised at seeing company, then severely at_ TATTLEAID.] Ah! Tattleaid----

_1st La._ Nay, madam, be not angry at her, we would come in in spite of her. We are your friends and are as concerned as you----

_Wid._ Ah! madam, madam, madam, madam, I am an undone woman. Oh me! Alas! Alas! Oh! Oh! [_All join in her notes._] I swoon--I expire. [_Faints._

_2nd La._ Pray, Mrs. Tattleaid, bring something that is cordial to her. [_Exit_ TATTLEAID.

_3rd La._ Indeed, madam, you should have patience. His lordship was old. To die is but going before in a journey we must all take.

_Enter_ TATTLEAID _loaded with bottles. 3rd Lady takes a bottle from her and drinks._

_4th La._ Lord, how my Lady Fleer drinks; I've heard, indeed, but never could believe it of her. [_Drinks also._

_1st La._ But, madam,[27] don't you hear what the town says of the jilt Flirt the men liked so much in the Park? Hark ye--was seen with him in an Hackney-coach--and silk stockings--key-hole--his wig--on the chair----[_Whispers by interruptions._

_2nd La._ Impudent Flirt, to be found out!

_3rd La._ But I speak it only to you----

_4th La._ Nor I but to one more----[_Whispers next woman._

_5th La._ I can't believe it; nay, I always thought it, madam----[_Whispers the_ WIDOW.

_Wid._ Sure, 'tis impossible! the demure, prim thing! Sure all the world's hypocrisy. Well, I thank my stars, whatsoever sufferings I have, I've none in reputation. I wonder at the men; I could never think her handsome. She has really a good shape and complexion, but no mien; and no woman has the use of her beauty without mien! Her charms are dumb, they want utterance. But whither does distraction lead me--to talk of charms?

_1st La._ Charms? A chit's, a girl's charms. Come, let us widows be true to ourselves, keep our countenances and our characters, and a fig for the maids--I mean for the unmarried.

_2nd La._ Ay, since they will set up for our knowledge, why should not we for their ignorance?

_3rd La._ But, madam, on Sunday morning at church I curtsied to you, and looked at a great fuss in a glaring light dress next pew. That strong masculine thing is a knight's wife, pretends to all the tenderness in the world, and would fain put the unwieldy upon us for the soft, the languid! She has of a sudden left her dairy, and sets up for a fine town-lady, calls her maid Sisly her woman, speaks to her by her surname, Mrs. Cherryfist, and her great foot-boy of nineteen, big enough for a trooper, is striped into a lace coat, now Mr. Page forsooth.

_4th La._ Oh! I have seen her. Well, I heartily pity some people for their wealth, they might have been unknown else! You'd die, madam, to see her and her equipage. I thought the honest fat tits, her horses, were ashamed of their finery; they dragged on as if they were still at the plough, and a great bashful-looked booby behind grasped the coach as if he held one.

_5th La._ Alas! some people think there's nothing but being fine to be genteel; but the high prance of the horses, and the brisk insolence of the servants in an equipage of quality, are inimitable, but to our own beasts and servants.

_1st La._ Now you talk of equipage, I envy this lady the beauty she'll appear in in a mourning coach, 'twill so become her complexion; I confess I myself mourned two years for no other reason. Take up that hood there; Oh! that fair face with a veil. [_They take up her hoods._

_Wid._ Fie, fie, ladies. But I've been told, indeed, black does become--

_2nd La._ Well, I'll take the liberty to speak it, there's young Nutbrain has long had (I'll be sworn) a passion for this lady; but I'll tell you one thing I fear she'll dislike, that is, he's younger than she is.

_3rd La._ No, that's no exception; but I'll tell you one, he's younger than his brother.

_Wid._ Ladies, talk not of such affairs. Who could love such an unhappy relict as I am? But, dear madam, what grounds have you for that idle story?

_4th La._ Why he toasts you, and trembles when you're spoke of; it must be a match.

_Wid._ Nay, nay; you rally, you rally; but I know you mean it kindly.

_1st La._ I swear we do. [TATTLEAID _whispers the_ WIDOW.

_Wid._ But I must beseech you, ladies, since you have been so compassionate as to visit and accompany my sorrow, to give me the only comfort I can now know, to see my friends cheerful, and to honour an entertainment Tattleaid has prepared within for you. If I can find strength enough I'll attend you; but I wish you'd excuse me, for I've no relish of food or joy, but will try to get a bit down in my own chamber.

_All._ No, no, you must go with us.

_1st La._ There's no pleasure without you.

_Wid._ But, madam, I must beg of your ladyship not to be so importune to my fresh calamity, as to mention Nutbrain any more; I'm sure there's nothing in it. In love with me, quoth a'. [_Is helped off. Exeunt._

_Enter_ MADEMOISELLE, _and_ CAMPLEY _in women's clothes carrying her things._

_Mad._ I very glad us be in de ladies' antichamber; I was shamed of you. You, you, such an impudent look; besides, me wonder you were not seized by the constable, when you pushed de man into de kennel.

_Cam._ Why, should I have let him kissed me?

_Mad._ No; but if you had hit him wit fan, and say, why sure saucy-box, it been enough; beside, what you hitted de gentleman for offer kiss me?

_Cam._ I beg pardon, I did not know you were pleased with it.

_Mad._ Please, no, but me rader be kiss den you, Mr. Terim's friend, be found out. Could not you say when he kiss me, sure saucy-box dat's meat for your master? Besides, you take such strides when you walk--walk--O fie; dese littil pette tiny bits a woman steps. [_Showing her step._

_Cam._ But prithee, mademoiselle, why have you lost your English tongue all of a sudden? Methought when the fellow called us French whores, as we came along, and said we came to starve their own people, you gave him pretty plain English; he was a dog, a rascal, you'd send him to the stocks.

_Mad._ Ha! ha! ha! I was in a passion and betrayed myself, but you're my lover's friend, and a man of honour, therefore know you'll do nothing to injure us. Why, Mr. Campley, you must know I can speak as good English as you, but I don't for fear of losing my customers. The English will never give a price for anything they understand. Nay, I've known some of your fools pretend to buy with good breeding, and give any rate rather than not be thought to have French enough to know what they were doing; strange and far-fetched things they only like. Don't you see how they swallow gallons of the juice of tea, while their own dock-leaves are trod under foot? But mum; my Lady Harriot.

_Enter_ LADY HARRIOT.

Madam, votre servante, servante----

_L. Ha._ Well, mademoiselle, did you deliver my letter?

_Mad._ Oui.

_L. Ha._ Well, and how--is that it in your hand?

_Mad._ Oui.

_L. Ha._ Well then, why don't you give it me?

_Mad._ O fie! lady, dat be so right Englise, de Englise mind only de words of de lovers, but de words of de lovers are often lie, but de action no lie.

_L. Ha._ What does the thing mean? Give me my letter.

_Mad._ Me did not deliver your letter.

_L. Ha._ No?

_Mad._ No, me tell you, me did drop it, to see Mr. Campley how cavalier to take it up. As dese me drop it so monsieur run take it up. [_They both run to take it up,_ MAD. _takes it._

_L. Ha._ Will you give me my letter or not?

_Mad._ Oui. But dus he do. Dere de letter--very well, very well. O l'amour! You act de manner Mr. Campley--take it up better den I, do' you no see it. [_They both run,_ HARRIOT _gets it._

_L. Ha._ [_Reads._]

"MADAM,

"I am glad you mentioned what indeed I did not at that time think of, nor if I had, should I have known how to have spoken of. But bless me more than fortune can, by turning those fair eyes upon, madam,

"Your most faithful,

"Most obedient humble servant,

"THO. CAMPLEY."

What does he mean? "But bless me more--by turning"--Oh, 'tis he himself [_Looking about observes_ CAM. _smile_]. Oh, the hoyden, the romp, I did not think anything could add to your native confidence, but you look so very bold in that dress, and your arms will fall off, and your petticoats how they hang!

_Cam._ Mademoiselle, voulez vous de Salville l'eau d'Hongrie, chez Monsieur Marchand de Montpelier--Dis for your teet [_Showing his trinkets_], de essence, a little book French for teach de elder broders make compliments. Will you, I say, have anything that I have, will you have all I have, madam?

_L. Ha._ Yes, and for humour's sake, will never part with this box, while I live, ha! ha! ha!

_Cam._ But, Lady Harriot, we must not stand laughing; as you observe in your letter, delays are dangerous in this wicked woman's custody of you; therefore I must, madam, beseech you, and pray stay not on niceties, but be advised.

_L. Ha._ Mr. Campley, I have no will but yours.

_Cam._ Thou dear creature, but [_Kisses her hand_] harkee then, you must change dresses with mademoiselle, and go with me instantly.

_L. Ha._ What you please.

_Cam._ Madam d'Epingle, I must desire you to comply with a humour of gallantry of ours--you may be sure I'll have an eye over the treatment you have upon my account--only to change habits with Lady Harriot, and let her go while you stay.

_Mad._ Wit all my heart.[28] [_Offers to undress herself._

_L. Ha._ What, before Mr. Campley?

_Mad._ Oh, oh--very Anglaise! dat is so Englise, all women of quality in France are dress and undress by a valet de chambre; de man chamber-maid help complexion better den de woman. [_Apart to_ L. HARRIOT.

_L. Ha._ Nay, that's a secret in dress, mademoiselle, I never knew before, and am so unpolished an English woman as to resolve never to learn even to dress before my husband. Oh! Indecency! Mr. Campley, do you hear what mademoiselle says?

_Mad._ Oh! Hist--bagatelle.

_L. Ha._ Well, we'll run in and be ready in an instant. [_Exeunt_ L. HARRIOT _and_ MADEMOISELLE.

_Cam._ Well, I like her every minute better and better. What a delicate chastity she has! There's something so gross in the carriage of some wives (though they're honest too) that they lose their husbands' hearts for faults which, if they had either good nature or good breeding, they know not how to tell 'em of. But how happy am I in such a friend as Hardy, such a mistress as Harriot!

Continue Heaven, a grateful heart to bless With faith in friendship, and in love success.

ACT THE FOURTH.