Ennui. To be sure I am—my dear friend, to be sure I am—the enemy has lost a limb.
Lord. So you're happy, because you're an hour nearer the other world?—tell me now,—do you wish to die?
Ennui. No.—But I wish somebody would invent a new mode of killing time—in fact, I think I've found one—private acting.
Lord. Acting!—never talk to me about the stage—I detest a theatre, and every thing that belongs to it: and if ever—but no matter—I must to Lady Waitfor't, and prevail on her to marry me at the same time you marry my ward.—But, remember our agreement—you are to settle your estate on Louisa, and I am to bring you into parliament.
Ennui. In fact, I comprehend—I am to be a hearer and not a speaker.
Lord. Speaker!—if you open your mouth, the Chiltern Hundreds is your portion.—Look ye—you are to be led quietly to the right side—to sleep during the debate—give a nod for your vote,—and in every respect, move like a mandarin, at my command;—in short, you are to be a mandarin member.—So, fare you well till we're both married.
[Exit.
Ennui. I've an idea, here's Neville.—In fact—he knows nothing of my marrying Louisa, nor shall he, till after the happy day.—Strange news, Neville.
Enter Neville.
Nev. I've heard it all. Louisa is going to be married; but to whom I know not,—and my Lord persists in his fatal attachment to Lady Waitfor't.