John Mood. Ay, your honors, they'll be proud on't, I dare say.
Man. I'll bring my compliments myself: So, honest John——
John Mood. Dear Measter Manly! the goodness of goodness bless and preserve you.
[Exit John Moody.
Lord Town. What a natural creature 'tis!
Lady Grace. Well! I can't but think John, in a wet afternoon in the country, must be very good company.
Lord Town. O! the Tramontane! If this were known at half the quadrille-tables in town, they would lay down their cards to laugh at you.
Lady Grace. And the minute they took them up again they would do the same at the losers——But to let you see, that I think good company may sometimes want cards to keep them together: what think you if we three sat soberly down, to kill an hour at Ombre?
Man. I shall be too hard for you, Madam.
Lady Grace. No matter! I shall have as much advantage of my Lord, as you have of me.