SIR W. I surrounded her with masters--an English master, a French master, a music master, a dancing master, a singing master, a philosophical lecturer, and a political economist. BLEN. And what has been her progress? SIR W. Her progress has been entirely stationary. I can do nothing with her--she seems to rejoice in her ignorance--and, though I sometimes think she has a capacity for learning, my hopes have been so often disappointed that I now give her up. She's a female Orson, Sir, though I confess I was once her Valentine. _MARGERY, laughs without._ --There she is. BLEN. Very merry, at any rate. SIR W. Oh, she's merry enough, and good-humoured enough; but, my dear Sir, with _my_ prejudices, with _my_ ideas of refinement, with _my_ delicacy as regards conduct in society, conceive my agony in possessing a wife who is as wild as an unbroken colt, finds a nickname for everybody, and persists in being called by her Christian name of--of---- BLEN. What? SIR W. I'm ashamed to tell you--Margery. BLEN. Margery? SIR W. I have tried to persuade her to change it to Matilda, or Magaretta, or Marguerite, but all in vain--she says her mother's name was Margery, her grandmother's name was Margery, that her name is Margery, and Margery she'll be to the end of the chapter. MARGERY. (_without_) Now, come along, Jack! and you, Tom, mind how you carry my kitten. _Enter MARGERY from the back, in a fashionably-made dress, but which she wears awkwardly--She is followed by TWO SERVANTS_. MAR. Now, Jack, mind what I say--how many pigs is there in the last litter? Oh, I know--eight! Well, you may send one to my cousin Joe--I'll tell you where he lives by and by--two to my old dad, and one to Betsy Buncle, my old playfellow in Lancashire--the three black ones I shall want to have in the parlor to play with. SIR W. Pigs in the parlor to play with? Lady Evergreen, do you not perceive a visitor? MAR. Wait a minute--I'll speak to him presently. Do as I bid you; and you, Tom, give my kitten her lunch, and turn all the young terriers loose on the grass plot, because I like to see 'em tumble over one another--and now go. _Exit SERVANTS at back._ --Well, Sir, and how d'ye do, Sir? and (_to BLENHEIM_) how are you, and who are you? SIR W. My dear, my dear, _do_ think of your station! This is an old friend of mine--we were at college together. Captain Blenheim--Lady Evergreen. MAR. (_dropping a country curtsey_) Hope you're well, Sir--fine weather for the hay, and nothing can look better as yet than the taters. SIR W. Hush, hush! don't talk, my dear. MAR. Then what did you bring him here for? BLEN. I am delighted in being introduced to the wife of my old friend. MAR. Well, I ain't sorry to see you, if it comes to that, if only for a bit of a change, for my Billy here seldom lets anybody come a-visiting, and when I ask him why he don't have a few friends now and then to kick up a bit of a bobbery---- SIR W. My dear!