Lady Fran. No; depend on us.
[Exit.
SCENE IV.——Doricourt's.
Doricourt seated, reading.
Doric. (flings away the book) What effect can the morals of Fourscore have on a mind torn with passion? (musing) Is it possible such a soul as her's, can support itself in so humiliating a situation? A kept Woman! (rising) Well, well—I am glad it is so—I am glad it is so!
Enter Saville.
Sav. What a happy dog you are, Doricourt! I might have been mad, or beggar'd, or pistol'd myself, without its being mentioned—But you, forsooth! the whole Female World is concerned for. I reported the state of your brain to five different women—The lip of the first trembled; the white bosom of the second heaved a sigh; the third ejaculated, and turned her eye—to the glass; the fourth blessed herself; and the fifth said, whilst she pinned a curl, "Well, now, perhaps, he'll be an amusing Companion; his native dullness was intolerable."
Doric. Envy! sheer envy, by the smiles of Hebe!——There are not less than forty pair of the brightest eyes in town will drop crystals, when they hear of my misfortune.
Sav. Well, but I have news for you:—Poor Hardy is confined to his bed; they say he is going out of the world by the first post, and he wants to give you his blessing.
Doric. Ill! so ill! I am sorry from my soul. He's a worthy little Fellow—if he had not the gift of foreseeing so strongly.
Sav. Well; you must go and take leave.