MRS. BROWN. (retiring, L.) Why, Mr. Bobbins, are you taking leave of your senses? If you wish me to remain in this room, sir, you must restrain yourself within proper bounds.
AUGUS. Bounds, madam! There are no bounds to the emotions of the heart. (throwing himself on his knees)
MRS. BROWN. Oh, my dear sir, do compose yourself—I beg of you. You are too poetical, you are, indeed. (aside) Ridiculous creature!
AUGUS. Tell me—only tell me—did you receive those two pots of Tom Thumb geraniums—I know your beautiful passion for flowers.
MRS. BROWN. Yes, I thank you—but I can’t possibly think of accepting them—in short, I must forbid all further nonsense of the kind. I give you fair warning, that if you persist in it any longer, I shall tell Mrs. Bobbins, I shall, indeed, and be compelled to leave my lodgings.
AUGUS. Oh, don’t be so cruel! Don’t say that!
MRS. BROWN. Not that I have any great affection for them either, for if it hadn’t been for poor Br—(recollecting herself) for reasons only interesting to myself, I should have given notice long ago.
AUGUS. For “poor” who, madam? You excite my curiosity. I trust there is no gentleman in the case?
MRS. BROWN. Yes, but there is, though—but I entreat you to ask no questions. (wiping her eyes) Ah, Mr. Bobbins, mine is the most painful, the most trying of positions to an affectionate and faithful disposition—
AUGUS. No scoundrel has dared to neglect—to abandon you? Ah, if you would but accept of the consolation of a discreet friend, and if any little assistance of a different kind—