Mar. Interrupting again, by Heav'n!—--Sure, Madam, I understand the Ladies better than you. To my knowledge they love words that have warmth, and fire, &c. in 'em.—Here, Patty, give me a Glass of Sherry; my Spirits are gone.——No Manchet Sot! Ah! the Glass [Brings a Glass. not clean! She takes this opportunity, because she knows I never fret before Company, I! do I use to Drink a Thimble full at a time?— Take that to wash your Face. [Throws it in her Face.
Pat. These are Poetical Ladies with a Pox to 'em. (Aside.
Mar. My Service to you Madam, I think you drink in a Morning.
Mrs. Wellf. Yes, else I had never come to this bigness, Madam, to the encreasing that inexhausted spring of Poetry: that it may swell, o'erflow, and bless the barren Land.
Mar. Incomparable, I protest!
Pat. Madam Calista to wait upon your Ladyship.
Mar. Do you know her Child?
Mrs. Wellf. No.
Mar. Oh! 'Tis the vainest; proudest, senseless Thing, she pretends to Grammar, writes in Mood and Figure; does every thing methodically.——Poor Creature! She shews me her Works first; I always commend 'em, with a Design she shou'd expose 'em, and the Town be so kind to laugh her out of her Follies.
Mr. Wellf. That's hard in a Friend.