Lord. Why he's mad!—that dramatic maniac has bit him.
Ennui. Get a divorce—marry another, and go halves again, damme!
Lord. [Rising.] Why, look ye, you impostor!—you—didn't you come here to pay your addresses to this lady? and wasn't I to bring you into parliament, for your quiet silent disposition?
Ennui. [Pushing him out of his way.] Hold your tongue! out of the way, Scratch!—out of the way, or I'll do you a mischief—I will, damme!—Zounds!—a'nt I at the top of the beau monde? and don't I set the fashions?—if I was to cut off my head, wouldn't half the town do the same?—they would, damme!—I get sleepy again!—yaw—aw!—
[Aside.
Lord. Here now!—here's a mandarin member;—why, he'd have bred a civil war!—made ten long speeches in a day!—cut your head off, indeed!—curse me but I wish you would—you must be silent then—you couldn't talk without a head, could you?
Ennui. Yes, in parliament—as well without a head as with one—do you think a man wants a head for a long speech, damme!—
Enter Servant.
Servant. Her ladyship is waiting, ma'am.
Louisa. Oh, I attend her,—Mr Ennui, your most obedient.