SERVANT.

SERVANT. Lord Belmour, madam, tenders his respects.

Mrs. ANDREWS. [Aside.] How I dread these visits! Besides, of late,
He hath been more particular than usual;
So that it hath become the general notice.
[To the Servant.] Withdraw awhile. [To MARIA.] I will not be
at home.

MARIA. What, not to him?
That gallant, gen'rous nobleman! your friend!

Mrs. ANDREWS. A creditor for more than I can pay.

MARIA. Bless us! where are your boasted gains of late,
And where the sum you just receiv'd from Jefferson?

Mrs. ANDREWS. Of late, I have miss'd notes for several sums.

Mar. I doubt she suspects me. [Aside.] Madam, 'tis like,
You've lent them to some friends?

Mrs. ANDREWS. Of this again.
Have you yet rais'd the money on my jewels?

MARIA. The broker thinks the pledge is not sufficient.

Mrs. ANDREWS. For three thousand! they cost that sum twice told.

MARIA. He'll not lend more than two.

Mrs. ANDREWS. I must submit.
[Aside.] Shameful return this to the gen'rous donor!
Part was his present on our bridal day,
And part the day, he bore the city's honours.
He thought he never could enough adorn me.

MARIA. But we forget--his lordship waits admission.

Mrs. ANDREWS. I cannot see him,--yet, shou'd I refuse it,
As my curs'd stars have destin'd me his debtor,
He may, perhaps, conceive, it want of honour.

MARIA. He scorns such thoughts; ev'n in his younger days,
as in his mien, so in all noble deeds,
Fair rumour tells, he was surpass'd by none.

Mrs. ANDREWS. Say, is your master in the house?

MARIA. No, madam.

Mrs. ANDREWS. Well then, this once.--How I abhor myself!
[MARIA goes off.]

Enter Lord BELMOUR.

Lord BELMOUR. How does my charming creditor this morning?

Mrs. ANDREWS. Your debtor, I suppose you mean, my lord?

Lord BELMOUR. Thou never was't my debtor. I'm thy slave;
And in the pleasing chains would live for ever.
To view that lovely form! those radiant eyes,
And listen to the language of those lips!
What sum can be a recompense for these
O! that such matchless, such resistless beauty,
Shou'd be condemn'd to the cold arms of age
Or one of vulgar breed!--'tis--Oh! it is--

Mrs. ANDREWS. I know not