LUCY He has found his ears at last. (Aside.) That he has had his house burnt down.
CUTLET
Bless me!
LUCY
I saw four small children taken in at the green grocer's.
CUTLET
Do you know if he is insured?
LUCY
Some say he is, but not to the full amount.
CUTLET Not to the full amount—how shocking! He killed more meat than any of the trade between here and Carnaby market—and the poor babes—four of them you say—what a melting sight!—he served some good customers about Marybone—I always think more of the children in these cases than of the fathers and mothers—Lady Lovebrown liked his veal better than any man's in the market—I wonder whether her ladyship is engaged—I must go and comfort poor Cleaver, however.—[Exit.]
LUCY Now is this pretender to humanity gone to avail himself of a neighbour's supposed ruin to inveigle his customers from him. Fine feelings!—pshaw! [Exit.]
(Re-enter Cutlet.)
CUTLET What a deceitful young hussey! there is not a word of truth in her. There has been no fire. How can people play with one's feelings so!—(sings)—"For tenderness formed"—No, I'll try the air I made upon myself. The words may compose me—(sings).
A weeping Londoner I am,
A washer-woman was my dam;
She bred me up in a cock-loft,
And fed my mind with sorrows soft: