COT. Some impudent impostor, Mrs. Chargely.
MRS. C. And, I’ll confess the truth—(Aside.) How are my benevolent designs frustrated—Mr. Cutaway was with her.
COT. Daring scoundrel!
HAR. The faithless wretch! brought a sham me.—Oh papa, papa! (Sobs.)
COT. I told you what he would turn out.
MISS B. Mrs. Bridget, I think I heard you called.—Allow me to look at the veil; observe, Mrs. Stitchley!
MRS. S. I do, my dear!
MISS B. The ironmould, and everything! Mrs. Chargely, this veil is mine; there are thieves in the house!—Had the lady a silk cloak?
MRS. C. Yes.
MRS. S. And a bonnet and feather?