SCENE I.
The garden of the “Windmill Inn,” at Salt Hill.
Miss Bursal, Mrs. Newington, Sally, the Chambermaid.
(Miss Bursal, in a fainting state, is sitting on a garden stool, and leaning her head against the Landlady. Sally is holding a glass of water and a smelling bottle.)
Miss Bursal. Where am I? Where am I?
Landlady. At the “Windmill,” at Salt Hill, young lady; and ill or well, you can’t be better.
Sally. Do you find yourself better since coming into the air, miss?
Miss B. Better! Oh, I shall never be better!
(Leans her head on hand, and rocks herself backwards and forwards.)
Landlady. My dear young lady, don’t take on so. (Aside.) Now would I give something to know what it was my Lady Piercefield said to the father, and what the father said to this one, and what’s the matter at the bottom of affairs. Sally, did you hear anything at the doors?
Sally (aside). No, indeed, ma’am; I never be’s at the doors.
Landlady (aside). Simpleton! (Aloud.) But, my dear Miss Bursal, if I may be so bold—if you’d only disembosom your mind of what’s on it—
Miss B. Disembosom my mind! Nonsense! I’ve nothing on my mind. Pray leave me, madam.
Landlady (aside). Madam, indeed! madam, forsooth! Oh, I’ll make her pay for that! That madam shall go down in the bill, as sure as my name’s Newington. (Landlady, in a higher tone.) Well, I wish you better, ma’am. I suppose I’d best send your own servant?
Miss B. (sullenly). Yes, I suppose so. (To Sally.) You need not wait, child, nor look so curious.
Sally. Cur’ous! Indeed, miss, if I look a little cur’ous, or so (looking at her dress), ’tis only because I was frighted to see you take on, which made me forget my clean apron, when I came out; and this apron—
Miss B. Hush! Hush! child. Don’t tell me about clean aprons, nor run on with your vulgar talk. Is there ever a seat one can set on in that Harbour yonder?
Sally. O dear ’art, yes, miss; ’tis the pleasantest Harbour on Hearth. Be pleased to lean on my Harm, and you’ll soon be there.
Miss B. (going). Then tell my woman she need not come to me, and let nobody interude on me—do you ’ear? (Aside.) Oh, what will become of me? and the Talbots will soon know it! And the ponies, and the curricle, and the vis-à-vis—what will become of them? and how shall I make my appearance at the Montem, or any ware else?