MRS. CANDOUR. To be sure they are[;] Tale Bearers are as bad as the Tale makers—'tis an old observation and a very true one—but what's to be done as I said before—how will you prevent People from talking—to-day, Mrs. Clackitt assured me, Mr. and Mrs. Honeymoon were at last become mere man and wife—like [the rest of their] acquaintance—she likewise hinted that a certain widow in the next street had got rid of her Dropsy and recovered her shape in a most surprising manner—at the same [time] Miss Tattle, who was by affirm'd, that Lord Boffalo had discover'd his Lady at a house of no extraordinary Fame—and that Sir Harry Bouquet and Tom Saunter were to measure swords on a similar Provocation. But—Lord! do you think I would report these Things—No, no[!] Tale Bearers as I said before are just as bad as the talemakers.
SURFACE. Ah! Mrs. Candour, if everybody had your Forbearance and good nature—
MRS. CANDOUR. I confess Mr. Surface I cannot bear to hear People traduced behind their Backs[;] and when ugly circumstances come out against our acquaintances I own I always love to think the best—by the bye I hope 'tis not true that your Brother is absolutely ruin'd—
SURFACE. I am afraid his circumstances are very bad indeed, Ma'am—
MRS. CANDOUR. Ah! I heard so—but you must tell him to keep up his Spirits—everybody almost is in the same way—Lord Spindle, Sir Thomas Splint, Captain Quinze, and Mr. Nickit—all up, I hear, within this week; so, if Charles is undone, He'll find half his Acquaintance ruin'd too, and that, you know, is a consolation—
SURFACE. Doubtless, Ma'am—a very great one.
Enter SERVANT
SERVANT. Mr. Crabtree and Sir Benjamin Backbite.
LADY SNEERWELL. Soh! Maria, you see your lover pursues you—Positively you shan't escape.
Enter CRABTREE and SIR BENJAMIN BACKBITE