Spi. Plague on't, what a misfortune it is to be a little fellow! Though I have a soul as great as Hercules, this fellow can deal with me.
Dot. Oh, my dear little Dicky Spider! [Exit, kicking him in his arms.
Sev. [Solus]. Here's a great piece of difficulty adjusted; but I observe very few difficulties of ceremony of much greater moment than this, and wish they were all to be so ended. Well, now have I the hardest task in all my affair to pursue: To persuade a woman who is young, pleasant, and agreeable, to act a part for me to another; to make love for me, instead of receiving love made to her; and there is no way of obtaining of 'em but by making love to them. They are used to no other language, and understand no other.—Ho! who waits there?
Enter Waiter.
Waiter. Sir; do you call, sir?
Sev. Pray, sir, call Mrs. Umbrage hither. If she be in the green-room, tell her I beg to speak with her—I must form myself into all the good humour I can to entertain her, or I shall never get her to come into it.
Enter Mrs. Umbrage.
Oh, here she comes.—Well, madam, I have cast parts for you, and named you to many, but never so very nice a one as I am to desire of you to undertake at present. To overlook yourself and deliver the application made to another which had been more rightly directed to yourself, is a greatness of mind—is a candour, to be found only in Mrs. Umbrage.
Umb. Well, Mr. Severn, you have waved your cap sufficiently; you have done homage and made your acknowledgments; pray proceed to the matter.