Mrs. Sul. I have heard my brother talk of Lord Aimwell, but they say that his brother is the finer gentleman.
Dor. That's impossible, sister.
Mrs. Sul. He's vastly rich, and very close, they say.
Dor. No matter for that; if I can creep into his heart, I'll open his breast, I warrant him: I have heard say, that people may be guessed at by the behaviour of their servants; I could wish we might talk to that fellow.
Mrs. Sul. So do I; for I think he's a very pretty fellow; come this way, I'll throw out a lure for him presently.
[They walk towards the opposite Side of the
Stage; Mrs. Sullen drops her Fan, Archer
runs, takes it up, and gives it to her.
Arch. Corn, wine, and oil, indeed——but, I think the wife has the greatest plenty of flesh and blood; she should be my choice—Ay, ay, say you so—madam—your ladyship's fan.
Mrs. Sul. O, sir, I thank you—What a handsome bow the fellow made!
Dor. Bow! why I have known several footmen come down from London, set up here for dancing masters, and carry off the best fortunes in the country.
Arch. [Aside.] That project, for aught I know, had been better than ours——Brother Scrub, why don't you introduce me?