Enter Mrs. Racket, and Miss Ogle, followed by a Servant.
Mrs. Rack. Acquaint your Lady, that Mrs. Racket, and Miss Ogle, are here.
[Exit Servant.
Miss Ogle. I shall hardly know Lady Frances, 'tis so long since I was in Shropshire.
Mrs. Rack. And I'll be sworn you never saw her out of Shropshire.—Her father kept her locked up with his Caterpillars and Shells; and loved her beyond any thing—but a blue Butterfly, and a petrified Frog!
Miss Ogle. Ha! ha! ha!—Well, 'twas a cheap way of breeding her:—you know he was very poor, though a Lord; and very high-spirited, though a Virtuoso.—In town, her Pantheons, Operas, and Robes de Cour, would have swallowed his Sea-Weeds, Moths, and Monsters, in six weeks!—Sir George, I find, thinks his Wife a most extraordinary creature: he has taught her to despise every thing like Fashionable Life, and boasts that example will have no effect on her.
Mrs. Rack. There's a great degree of impertinence in all that—I'll try to make her a Fine Lady, to humble him.
Miss Ogle. That's just the thing I wish.
Enter Lady Frances.
Lady Fran. I beg ten thousand pardons, my dear Mrs. Racket.—Miss Ogle, I rejoice to see you: I should have come to you sooner, but I was detained in conversation by Mr. Doricourt.