LADY MACSYCOPHANT MISS. PLATT. LADY RODOLPHA LUMBERCOURT, MRS. POPE. CONSTANTIA, MRS. MOUNTAIN. BETTY HINT, MRS. ROCK. NANNY, MRS. DEVERETT.
THE MAN OF THE WORLD.
ACT I. SCENE I.
A Library. Enter BETTY and SAM.
Betty. The Postman is at the gate, Sam; pray step and take in the letters.
Sam. John the gardener is gone for them, Mrs. Betty.
Bet. Bid John bring them to me, Sam: tell him I am here in the Library.
Sam. I’ll send him to your ladyship in a crack, madam. [Exit.
Nan. Miss Constantia desires to speak to you, Mrs. Betty.
Bet. How is she now? any better, Nanny?
Nan. Something; but very low spirited still. I verily believe it is as you say.
Bet. O! I would take my book oath of it. I can not be deceived in that point, Nanny.—Ay, ay, her business is done, she is certainly breeding, depend upon it.
Nan. Why so the housekeeper thinks too.
Bet. Nay, I know the father—the man that ruined her.
Nan. The deuce you do?
Bet. As sure as you are alive, Nanny;—or I am greatly deceived,—and yet—I can’t be deceived neither.—Was not that the cook that came gallopping so hard over the common just now?
Nan. The same:—how very hard he gallopped;—–he has been but three quarters of an hour, he says, coming from Hyde Park Corner.
Bet. And what time will the family be down?
Nan. He has orders to have dinner ready by five; there are to be lawyers and a great deal of company here—he fancies there is to be a private wedding to night between our young Master Charles and Lord Lumbercourt’s Daughter, the Scotch lady, who he says is just come post from Bath in order to be married to him.
Bet. Ay, ay—Lady Rodolpha—nay, like enough—for I know it has been talked of a good while;—well, go tell Miss Constantia that I will be with her immediately.
Nan. I shall, Mrs. Betty. [Exit.
Bet. Soh! I find they all believe the impertinent creature is breeding—that’s pure! it will soon reach my lady’s ears, I warrant.
Well, John, ever a letter for me?
John. No, Mrs. Betty, but here is one for Miss Constantia.
Bet. Give it me.—Hum!—my lady’s hand.
John. And here is one which the postman says is for my young master—but it’s a strange direction. [reads.] ‘To Charles Egerton, Esq.’
Bet. O! yes, yes,—that is for Master Charles, John:—for he has dropped his father’s name of Macsycophant, and has taken up that of Egerton—the parliament has ordered it.