MABEL. Not for the world. You know, James, when one is wishing for any one very much, the last hour's waiting is always the most intolerable, so when he is most longing to see me, and counting the minutes to six, I'll just open the door, and steal behind him, and fling my arms round his neck, and--but I shall be caught if I stay prattling here, and I must brush the dust from my hair, and smooth my dress, or I shall not be fit to be seen; so not a word to anybody, James, I insist, or I shall be angry. Where is my room? (_goes to 3 E. R. and opens door_) Oh, here! BUR. Your room, Miss Mabel; no! no! that is Mr. Vane's room, Ma'am. MABEL. Well, Mr. Vane's room is my room, I suppose (_pausing at door_). He is not there, is he? BUR. No, Ma'am, he is in the dining-room (_knock_). Anon! anon! MABEL. I fear my trunks will not be here in time for me to dress; but Ernest will not mind. He will see my heart in my face, and forgive my travelling sacque. [_Exit into apartment R. 2 E._ BUR. Poor thing! poor thing! (_knock_) there goes that door again--darn me if I go till I've seen Colander. Anon,--Miss Mabel!--(_going to door 3 E. R._). [_Hundsdon enters 3 E. L._] HUNDS. (_aside and looking at Burdock_). For all the world the twin brother to those bumpkins behind Hebe's coach. Well, my honest fellow! BUR. Well, my jack-a-dandy! HUNDS. Can'st bring me Sir Charles Pomander hither, my honest fellow? BUR. Here he's a bringing himself, my jack-a-dandy. [_Exit C. L._ HUNDS. For so pretty a creature, she hath an establishment of the veriest brutes. Ah! here comes Master! [_Enter Sir Charles Pomander 3 E. L._] POM. Well! is she arrived? HUNDS. (_aside to Pom._). I've marked her down, sir. She is here--in that room. POM. Is her arrival known? HUNDS. But to a rustic savage of a servant. POM. Good! Take thy sheep's face out of sight, incontinently. HUNDS. Yes, Sir Charles. POM. Hold! I have kept thee sober for two days. Here's for thee to make a beast of thyself. HUNDS. Nay, I'll disappoint him, and profit by sobriety. [_Exit 3 E. L._ POM. So, the train is laid and I hold the match in my hand (_Colander returns with servants, who bring tea, coffee, &c._). [_Enter Vane, Woffington, Quin, Clive, Cibber, Snarl and Soaper, as from the dining-room, laughing._] QUIN. I hate this detestable innovation of outlandish drawing-room drinks--your tea and coffee--pshaw! VANE. But you forget the ladies, Mr. Quin, and in the presence of Mr. Cibber too, whom I cannot thank enough for the honor of this visit. CIB. Nay, sir, I bring my wit in exchange for your wine; we barter our respective superfluities. QUIN. Good wine is no superfluity, Mr. Cibber; 'tis a necessary of life, just as much as good victuals. SOAP. I vow Mr. Cibber is as lively as ever, and doesn't look a day older: does he, Mr. Snarl? SNARL. 'Tis that there's no room on Mr. Cibber's face for another wrinkle. CIB. (_takes snuff_). Puppies!