LA VAROLE. Milor, de shoemaker, de tailor, de hosier, de sempstress, de peru, be all ready, if your lordship please to dress. LORD FOPPINGTON. ’Tis well, admit them. LA VAROLE. Hey, messieurs, entrez! _Enter_ TAILOR, SHOEMAKER, SEMPSTRESS, JEWELLER, _and_ MENDLEGS. LORD FOPPINGTON. So, gentlemen, I hope you have all taken pains to show yourselves masters in your professions? TAILOR. I think I may presume, sir— LA VAROLE. Milor, you clown, you! TAILOR. My lord—I ask your lordship’s—pardon, my lord. I hope, my lord, your lordship will be pleased to own I have brought your lordship as accomplished a suit of clothes as ever peer of England wore, my lord—will your lordship please to view ’em now? LORD FOPPINGTON. Ay; but let my people dispose the glasses so that I may see myself before and behind; for I love to see myself all round. [_Puts on his clothes_.] _Enter_ TOM FASHION _and_ LORY. _They remain behind, conversing apart_. TOM FASHION. Heyday! what the devil have we here? Sure my gentleman’s grown a favourite at court, he has got so many people at his levee. LORY. Sir, these people come in order to make him a favourite at court—they are to establish him with the ladies. TOM FASHION. Good Heaven! to what an ebb of taste are women fallen, that it should be in the power of a laced coat to recommend a gallant to them? LORY. Sir, tailors and hair-dressers debauch all the women. TOM FASHION. Thou sayest true. But now for my reception. LORD FOPPINGTON. [_To_ TAILOR.] Death and eternal tortures! Sir—I say the coat is too wide here by a foot. TAILOR. My lord, if it had been tighter, ’twould neither have hooked nor buttoned. LORD FOPPINGTON. Rat the hooks and buttons, sir! Can anything be worse than this? As Gad shall jedge me, it hangs on my shoulders like a chairman’s surtout. TAILOR. ’Tis not for me to dispute your lordship’s fancy. LORY. There, sir, observe what respect does. TOM FASHION. Respect! damn him for a coxcomb!—But let’s accost him.—[_Coming forward_.] Brother, I’m your humble servant. LORD FOPPINGTON. O Lard, Tam! I did not expect you in England. Brother, I’m glad to see you. But what has brought you to Scarborough, Tam!—[_To the_ TAILOR.] Look you, sir, I shall never be reconciled to this nauseous wrapping-gown, therefore pray get me another suit with all possible expedition; for this is my eternal aversion.—[_Exit_ TAILOR.] Well but, Tam, you don’t tell me what has driven you to Scarborough.—Mrs. Calico, are not you of my mind? _Semp_. Directly, my lord.—I hope your lordship is pleased with your ruffles? LORD FOPPINGTON. In love with them, stap my vitals!—Bring my bill, you shall be paid tomorrow. _Semp_. I humbly thank your worship. [Exit.] LORD FOPPINGTON. Hark thee, shoemaker, these shoes aren’t ugly, but they don’t fit me. SHOEMAKER. My lord, I think they fit you very well. LORD FOPPINGTON. They hurt me just below the instep. SHOEMAKER. [_Feels his foot_.] No, my lord, they don’t hurt you there.