Bendish:
Sir!
Cadwell:
Shut up!
Bendish: (aside)
Ah—what a man! (aloud) Shall I go with you?
Cadwell: (taking a few steps towards leaving) No. (Returning) I forgot. (pulling a letter from his pocket and giving it to Bendish) Take this letter to the Duchess of Devonshire.
Bendish:
The Duchess of Devonshire. It's fifteen months since you last saw her.
Cadwell:
Go, I tell you.
Bendish: (aside)
What a devilish imagination. Ah, she sold land eight days ago. (aloud)
I'm going. But where will I find you?
Cadwell: At Charlotte's where I must be precisely at five o'clock, don't you know? Don't wait, for I won't be long.
(Exit Cadwell)
Bendish: Go, go, we are ordered. And by God all is not going to end as it should. Cursed be the first little she-monkey that gave him his reputation. Really, what's so marvelous about him? Don't I have eyes, a nose, a body like him? It's chance that does everything? Just make a little stir and you will succeed in all things. The Duchess is amorous of so and so. She passes for a connoisseur. All the gallant ladies want to know if she's right. All try to please her. One by a veritable infatuation, another by jealousy, another by avenging a lover who had left her, to reawaken the ardors of a languishing lover—all to follow the fashion. For it's fashion in this as in all else. But let's go wait on her. For if I only need to deceive six persons for the remainder of the day, I'll be off quite cheaply.