Shuff. Lady Caroline; this is a crisis, that—my attentions,—that is, the——In short, the world, you know, my dear Lady Caroline, has given me to you.
Lady Car. Why, what a shabby world it is!
Shuff. How so?
Lady Car. To make me a present of something, it sets no value on itself.
Shuff. I flattered myself I might not be altogether invaluable to your ladyship.
Lady Car. To me! Now, I can't conceive any use I could make of you. No, positively, you are neither useful nor ornamental.
Shuff. Yet, you were never at an opera, without me at your elbow;—never in Kensington Gardens, that my horse—the crop, by the bye, given me by Lord Collarbone,—wasn't constantly in leading at the gate:—hav'n't you danc'd with me at every ball?—And hav'nt I, unkind, forgetful, Lady Caroline, even cut the Newmarket meetings, when you were in London?
Lady Car. Bless me!—these charges are brought in like a bill. "To attending your ladyship at such a time; to dancing down twenty couple with your ladyship, at another,"—and, pray, to what do they all amount?
Shuff. The fullest declaration.
Lady Car. Lard, Mr. Shuffleton! why, it has, to be sure, looked a—a—a little foolish—but you—you never spoke any thing to——that is—to justify such a——