“Then you’ve seen her, Sir, I conclude?”
“Certainly, Madam, what would my character for fashion be worth had I not seen the new, the famous, the adorable Polly? I was presented to her in the green-room, but could scarce form a judgment of her face so resolutely did she keep her eyes on the ground and tilt her hat brim over her eyes. There was that in her air that said ‘A man’s an animal I distrust most liberally. Not a man shall come within the circumference of my hoop but I’ll freeze him into awe. Keep your distance, Sir!’ Accordingly I kept it. I know not what she is like.”
“Then there’s a lover behind the scenes,” says her Grace, sticking a jonquil and laughing.
“Why be so cruel in your judgment, Madam? Hasn’t Mrs. Bracegirdle carried her reputation unspotted through the world and she a famous player? Don’t your Grace recall Congreve’s verse?”
And in a very mellow and manly tenor the Duke sang sotta voce:
“Pious Celinda goes to prayers
Whene’er I ask a favour,
And yet the tender fool’s in tears
When she believes I’ll leave her.
Would I were free from this constraint,