Miss Sky. Dreadful!
Dam. Horrible!
Nig. What is it? Am I to be the only person in ignorance of anything derogatory to the reputation of Miss Coy?
Miss Sky. The fact is, Mr. Niggle, we don’t wish to wound your feelings. Oh, you sly man, do you think your attentions to Miss Coy, have passed unnoticed. Gallanting her home from parties, running of errands for her, sitting on a post opposite to her window of an evening, when the weather has been mild enough, taking walks, and taking tea, and playing at double dummy by moonlight. Oh, shocking! shocking! (Sings.) “Can love be controlled by advice? Will Cupid his mother obey.”
Nig. Pray don’t be musical at such a moment, miss, pray, don’t. One shakes her head and cries “shocking,” another ejaculates “dreadful,” while Damper sums up all by a growl of “horrible,” and giving a violent hint of Miss Coy and some full grown young man. Now, what is it? Not that I particularly wish to know; because curiosity is a foible that I detest. Not that it at all concerns me, the least in the world—the least in the world. What is it?
Miss Sky. Don’t tell him.
Dam. You’re not going to make a fool of yourself in that quarter, are you? Think how many times I have saved you from perdition! Tell me if you are: I am your friend you know, and I’ll never forsake you.
Miss Sky. Nay, Mr. Damper, if his fancy is fixed there, why should he not gratify it? Miss Coy is still a handsome woman, past the summer of her existence, certainly; but what I call a fine autumnal maiden.
Nig. So she is; and if I do possess a preference for any female, I certainly admire one at that season of life: when her charms are in the richest state of perfection. None of your just budding April misses for me; who, after all, may turn out to be very indifferent blossoms.
Dam. Ah! your autumnal maiden is so near a neighbour of your wintery one, that when you have folded the full blown blossom to your heart, you will find to your dismay, that all its leaves are falling at your feet; but I understand your rhapsody—you have betrayed yourself, and now I ask you a plain question—are you going to be married?