Sir John. Will it so, Mrs. Pert? Now I believe it will so increase it, (sitting and smoaking) I shall take my own House for a Papermill.
Lady Brute. (To Belinda aside.) Don’t let’s mind him; let him say what he will.
Sir John. (Aside.) A Woman’s Tongue a Cure for the Spleen—Oons—If a Man had got the Head-ach, they’d be for applying the same Remedy.
Lady Brute. You have done a great deal, Belinda, since yesterday.
Belinda. Yes, I have work’d very hard; how do you like it?
Lady Brute. O, ’tis the prettiest Fringe in the World. Well, Cousin, you have the happiest fancy. Prithee advise me about altering my Crimson Petticoat.
Sir John. A Pox o’ your Petticoat; here’s such a Prating, a Man can’t digest his own Thoughts for you.
Lady Brute. (Aside.) Don’t answer him.—Well, what do you advise me?
Belinda. Why really I would not alter it at all. Methinks ’tis very pretty as it is.[56]
Sir John’s aside, if addressed to the audience, is bad; if meant to illustrate his habit of grumbling to himself, it is permissible.