True, as I'm a person of honour. For heaven's sake let
us sacrifice 'em to mirth a little. [Enter BOY and whispers SIR
PAUL.]
SIR PAUL. Gads so.--Wife, wife, my Lady Plyant, I have a word.
LADY PLYANT. I'm busy, Sir Paul, I wonder at your impertinence.
CARE. Sir Paul, harkee, I'm reasoning the matter you know. Madam,
if your ladyship please, we'll discourse of this in the next room.
SIR PAUL. O ho, I wish you good success, I wish you good success.
Boy, tell my lady, when she has done, I would speak with her below.
SCENE X.
CYNTHIA, LORD FROTH, LADY FROTH, BRISK.
LADY FROTH. Then you think that episode between Susan, the dairy-
maid, and our coachman is not amiss; you know, I may suppose the
dairy in town, as well as in the country.
BRISK. Incomparable, let me perish. But then, being an heroic
poem, had you not better call him a charioteer? Charioteer sounds
great; besides, your ladyship's coachman having a red face, and you
comparing him to the sun--and you know the sun is called Heaven's
charioteer.
LADY FROTH. Oh, infinitely better; I'm extremely beholden to you
for the hint; stay, we'll read over those half a score lines again.
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