MRS. CROAKER. You see now, my dear, what an extensive department. Well, friend, let your master know, that we are extremely honoured by this honour. Was there any thing ever in a higher style of breeding? All messages among the great are now done by express. CROAKER. To be sure, no man does little things with more solemnity, or claims more respect, than he. But he's in the right on't. In our bad world, respect is given where respect is claimed. MRS. CROAKER. Never mind the world, my dear; you were never in a pleasanter place in your life. Let us now think of receiving him with proper respect: (_a loud rapping at the door_) and there he is, by the thundering rap. CROAKER. Ay, verily, there he is; as close upon the heels of his own express, as an endorsement upon the back of a bill. Well, I'll leave you to receive him, whilst I go to chide my little Olivia for intending to steal a marriage without mine or her aunt's consent. I must seem to be angry, or she too may begin to despise my authority. [_Exit._ _Enter_ LOFTY, _speaking to his_ SERVANT. LOFTY. And if the Venetian ambassador, or that teazing creature the marquis, should call, I'm not at home. Dam'me, I'll be packhorse to none of them. My dear madam, I have just snatched a moment—and if the expresses to his grace be ready, let them be sent off; they're of importance. Madam, I ask a thousand pardons. MRS. CROAKER. Sir, this honour— LOFTY. And, Dubardieu, if the person calls about the commission, let him know that it is made out. As for Lord Cumbercourt's stale request; it can keep cold: you understand me. Madam, I ask ten thousand pardons. MRS. CROAKER. Sir, this honour— LOFTY. And, Dubardieu, if the man comes from the Cornish borough, you must do him; you must do him, I say. Madam, I ask ten thousand pardons. And if the Russian ambassador calls; but he will scarce call to-day, I believe. And now, madam, I have just got time to express my happiness in having the honour of being permitted to profess myself your most obedient humble servant. MRS. CROAKER. Sir, the happiness and honour are all mine: and yet I'm only robbing the public while I detain you. LOFTY. Sink the public, madam, when the fair are to be attended. Ah, could all my hours be so charmingly devoted! Sincerely, don't you pity us poor creatures in affairs? Thus it is eternally; solicited for places here, teazed for pensions there, and courted everywhere. I know you pity me. Yes, I see you do. MRS. CROAKER. Excuse me, sir; "Toils of empires pleasures are," as Waller says. LOFTY. Waller, Waller; is he of the house? MRS. CROAKER. The modern poet of that name, sir.