Mars. And well remembred. My Lord Duke promis'd he'd be there.—Oh Heav'ns! I wou'd not stay another moment, No, not to finish a Speech in Catiline. What a Monster was I to forget it! Oh Jehu! My Lord Duke, and Sir Thomas! Pat. another Chair, Sir Thomas and my Lord Duke both stay.— [Exit running.
Aw'dw. Follow, follow. Fool, be gorg'd and glutted with Abuses, then throw up them and Love together.— [Exit.
SCENE
the Play-House.
Enter Mr. Johnson, Mr. Pinkethman, Mrs. Lucas, and Miss Cross.
Mrs. Cross. Good morrow Mrs. Lucas; why what's the Whim, that we must be all dress'd at Rehearsal, as if we play'd?
Mrs. Lucas, 'Tis by the Desire of Madam Maggot the Poetess, I suppose.
Mrs. Cross. She is a little whimsical, I think, indeed; for this is the most incomprehensible Part I ever had in my Life; and when I complain, all the Answer I get is, 'tis New, and 'tis odd; and nothing but new things and odd things will do—Where's Mr. Powell, that we may try a little before she comes.
Mr. Johnson. At the Tavern, Madam.
Mrs. Cross. At the Tavern in a Morning?