Bar. Not just yet, madam. He travels at his leisure. I am selfish, perhaps, in not being anxious for his speed: the delay has procured me a delight which I never shall forget.
Mrs. H. [Smiling.] You satirise mankind, my lord.
Bar. How so?
Mrs. H. In supposing such scenes to be uncommon.
Bar. I confess I was little prepared for such an acquaintance as yourself: I am extremely surprised. When Solomon told me your name and situation, how could I suppose that—Pardon my curiosity: You have been, or are married?
Mrs. H. [Suddenly sinking from her cheerful raillery into mournful gloom.] I have been married, my lord.
Bar. [Whose enquiries evince his curiosity, yet are restrained within the bounds of the nicest respect.] A widow, then?
Mrs. H. I beseech you—There are strings in the human heart, which touched, will sometimes utter dreadful discord—I beseech you—
Bar. I understand you. I see you know how to conceal every thing except your perfections.
Mrs. H. My perfections, alas!—[Rural music without.] But I hear the happy tenantry announce the Count's arrival. Your pardon, my lord; I must attend them.