SIR W. (_to MARGERY_) Oblige me by retiring to your room--and you, fellow, leave this place immediately. MAR. Don't send him away yet--we haven't had half a talk together. JOE. No, we haven't had half a talk together. MAR. Don't you go, Joe. JOE. I don't mean to! SIR W. Your conduct, Madam, is most unbecoming! you forget your station--you forget that you are my wife! MAR. I'm sure I don't, and I'm sure you take good care that I sha'n't. JOE. You take good care that she sha'n't. MAR. Hold your tongue, Sir! how dare you speak? I won't be tethered so tight any longer, I can tell you--and I _will_ be myself again! I've tried to be somebody else, and I can't, and I'll go and put on my old country clothes again--for I've no comfort in these--and then I can do as I like--kiss Joe, and you, and even that old gentleman--though I shouldn't much like it. JOE. (_after staring at LORD PLATO_) I shouldn't like to kiss him. PLATO. Really! (_going up_) SIR W. Margaret, I---- (_turns sharply to JOE, who wears his hat_) Take off your hat, Sir! JOE. Eh? SIR W. (_pointing to his hat_) Take off your hat, Sir! MAR. I don't want to quarrel, and I won't quarrel, if you'll only be kind to me; but I will be myself again, for since I've been married I feel as if my head, and my arms, and my legs were all put on the wrong way; and when I am myself again, if you don't like me I had better go back to my father, he'll be fond of me if you won't--so come along, Joe! _She runs off, followed by JOE, L.H._ SIR W. I give it up! I can no longer pursue my darling theory--it's all labour in vain! PLATO. I told you so, my dear Sir William, I told you so when you described the humble person you were about to honor with your hand--that the union could not be a happy one. SIR W. I admired her simplicity, her frankness--and I fondly imagined that if I could unite such qualities with education, with refinement, that I should create, as it were, a woman of perfection. PLATO. You now perceive the error of your speculation--the inutility of striving to elevate humanity from its natural position. There _must_ exist separate grades of society--the patrician, the commoner, and the plebeian--seek not to amalgamate,--the process may be very well in a railroad, but with human nature it must ever create incongruities. Where's Lady P.? Ah, there! could you have found another woman like that, how different would have been your fate! Well, as we have discussed the state of the nation, I must seek her--she's in the house, no doubt fatigued with her journey. Don't look so downcast, Sir William, there's no help for it now--make the best of a bad bargain, for it's an excellent observation, that there's no making a silk purse--I need say no more. _Exit at back._