_Rob._ Very dirty, indeed, my lady. [_Exit._ _Shuff._ That infernal footman has been listening!--I'll kick him round his master's park. _Lady Car._ 'Tis lucky, then, you are booted; for, you hear, he says it is very dirty there. _Shuff._ Was that the meaning of----Pooh!--but, you see, the--the surprise--the--the agitation has made me ridiculous. _Lady Car._ I see something has made you ridiculous; but you never told me what it was before. _Shuff._ Lady Caroline; this is a crisis, that--my attentions,--that is, the----In short, the world, you know, my dear Lady Caroline, has given me to you. _Lady Car._ Why, what a shabby world it is! _Shuff._ How so? _Lady Car._ To make me a present of something, it sets no value on itself. _Shuff._ I flattered myself I might not be altogether invaluable to your ladyship. _Lady Car._ To me! Now, I can't conceive any use I could make of you. No, positively, you are neither useful nor ornamental. _Shuff._ Yet, you were never at an opera, without me at your elbow;--never in Kensington Gardens, that my horse--the crop, by the bye, given me by Lord Collarbone,--wasn't constantly in leading at the gate:--hav'n't you danc'd with me at every ball?--And hav'nt I, unkind, forgetful, Lady Caroline, even cut the Newmarket meetings, when you were in London? _Lady Car._ Bless me!--these charges are brought in like a bill. "To attending your ladyship at such a time; to dancing down twenty couple with your ladyship, at another,"--and, pray, to what do they all amount? _Shuff._ The fullest declaration. _Lady Car._ Lard, Mr. Shuffleton! why, it has, to be sure, looked a--a--a little foolish--but you--you never spoke any thing to----that is--to justify such a---- _Shuff._ That's as much as to say, speak now. [_Aside._]--To be plain, Lady Caroline, my friend does not know your value. He has an excellent heart--but that heart is--[_Coughs._] damn the word, it's so out of fashion, it chokes me! [_Aside._] is irrevocably given to another.--But mine--by this sweet hand, I swear---- [_Kneeling and kissing her Hand._ _Enter JOHN._ Well, sir?-- [_Rising hastily._ _John._ Slyboots, sir, has been down on his knees;--and the groom says he can't go out. _Shuff._ Let him saddle another. _John._ What horse, sir, will you---- _Shuff._ Psha!--any.--What do you call Mr. Rochdale's favourite, now. _John._ Traitor, sir. _Shuff._ When Traitor's in the avenue, I shall be there. [_Exit JOHN._ _Lady Car._ Answer me one question, candidly, and, perhaps, I may entrust you with a secret.--Is Mr. Rochdale seriously attached? _Shuff._ Very seriously. _Lady Car._ Then I won't marry him. _Shuff._ That's spirited.--Now, your secret. _Lady Car._ Why--perhaps you may have heard, that my father, Lord Fitz Balaam, is, somehow, so--so much in debt, that--but, no matter.