I am, Old Scratch. [_Exit._

_Lord._ Astonishing! can this be Lady Waitfor't's house--"Very warm
tragedy weather, sir!" "In my next pantomime, let you know who I
am."--Gad, I must go and investigate the matter immediately, and if she
has wronged me, by the blood of the Scratches, I'll bring the whole
business before parliament, make a speech ten hours long, reduce the
price of opium, and set the nation in a lethargy. [_Exit._

SCENE II.

_A Library in LADY WAITFOR'T'S House.--A Sofa and two Chairs._

_Enter VAPID._

_Vapid._ Either this house is a labyrinth, or I, in reflecting on my
incident, have forgot myself; for so it is I can't find my way out--who
have we here? by the sixtieth night, my little partner!

_Enter MARIANNE, with a Book in her Hand._

_Mari._ The poet I danced with!--he little thinks how much I've thought
of him since--Sir. [_Courtesying._

_Vapid._ Ma'am. [_Bowing._]

_Mari._ I hope, sir, you caught no cold the other night?

_Vapid._ No, ma'am, I was much nearer a fever than a cold.--Pray, ma'am,
what is your study?

_Mari._ I have been reading "All for Love."--Pray, sir, do you know any
thing about plays?

_Vapid._ Know any thing about plays!--there's a question!

_Mari._ I know so much about them, that I once acted at a private
theatre.

_Vapid._ Did you? Then you acted for your own amusement, and nobody's
else: what was the play?

_Mari._ I can't tell!

_Vapid._ Can't tell?

_Mari._ No,--nobody knew,--it's a way they have.

_Vapid._ Then they never act a play of mine.--With all this partiality
for the stage--perhaps you would be content with a dramatist for
life--particularly if his morals were fine?

_Mari._ Lord! I don't care about fine morals--I'd rather my husband had
fine teeth,--and I'm told most women of fashion are of the same opinion.

_Vapid._ To be sure they are,--but could you really consent to run away
with a poet?

_Mari._ 'Faith--with all my heart--they never have any money, you know,
and, as I have none, our distress would be complete; and, if we had any
luck, our adventures would become public, and then we should get into a
novel at last.

_Vapid._ Into a prison, more probably--if she goes on in this way, I
must dramatize her first,--and run away with her afterwards. [_Aside._]
Come, are you ready?