Mrs. Rack. If her Fate does not deceive her. You are apprised of the scheme, and we hope it will succeed.
Miss Ogle. Deuce, take her! she's six years younger than I am. (Aside)—Is Mr. Doricourt handsome?
Mrs. Rack. Handsome, generous, young, and rich.——There's a Husband for ye! Isn't he worth pulling caps for?
Miss Ogle. I' my conscience, the Widow speaks as though she'd give cap, ears, and all for him. (Aside.) I wonder you didn't try to catch this wonderful Man, Mrs. Racket?
Mrs. Rack. Really, Miss Ogle, I had not time. Besides, when I marry, so many stout young fellows will hang themselves, that, out of regard to society, in these sad times, I shall postpone it for a few years. This will cost her a new lace—I heard it crack. (Aside.)
Enter Sir George, and Lady Frances.
Sir Geo. Well, here we are.—But where's the Knight of the Woeful Countenance?
Mrs. Rack. Here soon, I hope—for a woeful Night it will be without him.
Sir Geo. Oh, fie! do you condescend to pun?
Mrs. Rack. Why not? It requires genius to make a good pun—some men of bright parts can't reach it. I know a Lawyer who writes them on the back of his briefs; and says they are of great use—in a dry cause.