ar._ Then I won't marry him.

_Shuff._ That's spirited.--Now, your secret.

_Lady Car._ Why--perhaps you may have heard, that my father, Lord
Fitz Balaam, is, somehow, so--so much in debt, that--but, no matter.

_Shuff._ Oh, not at all;--the case is fashionable, with both lords
and commoners.

_Lady Car._ But an old maiden aunt, whom, rest her soul! I never
saw, for family pride's sake, bequeathed me an independence. To
obviate his lordship's difficulties, I mean to--to marry into this
humdrum Cornish family.

_Shuff._ I see--a sacrifice!--filial piety, and all that--to
disembarrass his lordship. But hadn't your ladyship better--

_Lady Car._ Marry to disembarrass you?

_Shuff._ By my honour, I'm disinterested.

_Lady Car._ By my honour, I'm monstrously piqued--and so vex'd, that
I can't read this morning,--nor talk,--nor----I'll walk.

_Shuff._ Shall I attend you?

_Lady Car._ No;--don't fidget at my elbow, as you do at the opera.
But you shall tell me more of this by and by.

_Shuff._ When?--Where? [_Taking her Hand._

_Lady Car._ Don't torment me.--This evening, or--to-morrow,
perhaps;--in the park,--or----psha! we shall meet at dinner.--Do,
let me go now, for I shall be very bad company.

_Shuff._ [_Kissing her Hand._] Adieu, Lady Caroline!--

_Lady Car._ Adieu! [_Exit._

_Shuff._ My friend Frank, here, I think, is very much obliged to
me!--I am putting matters pretty well _en train_ to disencumber him
of a wife;--and now I'll canter over the heath, and see what I can
do for him with the brazier's daughter. [_Exit._

SCENE II.

_A mean Parlour at the Red Cow._

_A Table--Pen, Ink, and Paper on it.--Chairs._

_MARY and MRS. BRULGRUDDERY discovered._

_Mrs. Brul._ Aye, he might have been there, and back, over and over
again;--but my husband's slow enough in his motions, as I tell him,
till I'm tir'd on't.

_Mary._ I hope he'll be here soon.

_Mrs. Brul._ Ods, my little heart! Miss, why so impatient? Hav'n't
you as genteel a parlour as any lady in the land could wish to sit
down in?--The bed's turn'd up in a chest of drawers that's stain'd
to look like mahogany:--there's two poets, and a poll parrot, the
best images the jew had on his head, over the mantlepiece; and was I
to leave you all alone by yourself, isn't there an eight day clock
in the corner, that when one's waiting, lonesome