ll forget my peerage, and draw my sword.

_Flor._ [_To LADY WAITFOR'T, who is going to interfere._] Don't be
alarm'd, ma'am, I'll only indulge him for my own amusement--mere trout
fishing, ma'am--

_Enter LOUISA, from the Apartment._

_Louisa._ Hold! I charge you, hold!--let not my unhappy fate be the
source of more calamities.

_Lord._ 'Tis she herself:--My lady did not come to meet the madman.

_Flor._ By the lord, ma'am, you have ruined all.

_Louisa._ I know, sir, the consequences of this discovery, and I abide
by them.--But what I have done, I can justify, and 'would to Heaven all
here could do the same!

_Flor._ Indeed, I can't tell--I wish I was in Italy.

_Lord._ Mark me, madam,--nay, tears are in vain--to-morrow shall make
you the wife of Willoughby; and he shall answer for your follies.--No
reply, sir, [_To FLORIVILLE, who is going to speak._] I wou'dn't hear
the chancellor.

_Lady._ Now, who is to blame? Oh, virtue is ever sure to meet its
reward!--Come to meet a mad poet, indeed!--My lord, I forgive you only
on condition of your signing a contract to marry me to-morrow, and
Louisa to Willoughby, at the same time.

_Lord._ I will, thou best of women!--draw it up immediately--and Neville
shall starve for his treachery.
[_LADY WAITFOR'T goes to the Table, and writes._

_Louisa._ [_Falling at the feet of LORD SCRATCH._] Hear me, sir, not for
myself, but for a wrong'd friend, I speak:--Mr Neville knows not of my
concealment; on my honour, he is innocent:--if that lady's wrongs must
be avenged, confine the punishment to me--I'll bear it, with patience
bear it.

_Lord._ Let go!--let go, I say!--Lady Waitfor't, make haste with the
contract.

_Lady._ It only waits the signature.--Now, my lord.

_Flor._ Look ye, uncle--she's the cause of all this mischief, and if you
are not lost----

_Lord._ Out of my way!--O'd--noise and nonsense!--don't fancy yourselves
in the House of Commons! we're not speaking twenty at a time. Here! give
me the pen--I'll sign directly; and now--

[_As he is going to sign, VAPID breaks the China in the
Closet, and rushes out, with the Epilogue in his Hand._

_Vapid._ "Die all! die nobly! die like demi-gods!"--Huzza, huzza! 'tis
done! 'tis past! 'tis perfect.

_Flor._ Huzza!--the poet at last; "Stop him who can!"

_Lady._ Confusion!--tell me, sir, immediately, what do you mean by this
new insult?

_Vapid._ "Die all! die nobly! die l