[Exit.]
SCENE II.—At LADY SNEERWELL'S
LADY SNEERWELL, MRS. CANDOUR, CRABTREE, SIR BENJAMIN BACKBITE,
and SURFACE
LADY SNEERWELL. Nay, positively, we will hear it.
SURFACE. Yes—yes the Epigram by all means.
SiR BENJAMIN. O plague on't unkle—'tis mere nonsense—
CRABTREE. No no; 'fore gad very clever for an extempore!
SIR BENJAMIN. But ladies you should be acquainted with the circumstances. You must know that one day last week as Lady Betty Curricle was taking the Dust in High Park, in a sort of duodecimo Phaeton—she desired me to write some verses on her Ponies—upon which I took out my Pocket-Book—and in one moment produced—the following:—