Lady Boun. Come, sir, your servant has been telling me that you're apt to relapse if you go into the air: your good manners shan't get the better of ours— you shall sit down again, sir. Come, sir, we don't mind ceremonies in the country—here, sir, my service t'ye.—You shall taste my water; 'tis a cordial I can assure you, and of my own making— drink it off, sir.—[Aimwell drinks.] And how d'ye find yourself now, sir?
Aim. Somewhat better—though very faint still. [219]
Lady Boun. Ay, ay, people are always faint after these fits.—Come, girls, you shall show the gentleman the house.—'Tis but an old family building, sir; but you had better walk about, and cool by degrees, than venture immediately into the air. You 'll find some tolerable pictures.—Dorinda, show the gentleman the way. I must go to the poor woman below. [Exit.
Dor. This way, sir.
Aim. Ladies, shall I beg leave for my servant to wait on you, for he understands pictures very well? [231]
Mrs. Sul. Sir, we understand originals as well as he does pictures, so he may come along.
[Exeunt all but Scrub, Aimwell leading Dorinda. Enter Foigard.
Foi. Save you, Master Scrub!
Scrub. Sir, I won't be saved your way—I hate a priest, I abhor the French, and I defy the devil. Sir, I 'm a bold Briton, and will spill the last drop of my blood to keep out popery and slavery.
Foi. Master Scrub, you would put me down in politics, and so I would be speaking with Mrs. Shipsy. [240]