POM. I win (_a pause of silent amazement_). (_Vane looks round on the reverse side from Woffington._) WOFF. (_aside to Vane_). Who is this? VANE. My--my wife! (_All rise and bow. Colander places chair for Mrs. Vane._) CIB. 'Fore Gad! he is stronger than Loungeville. MABEL. You are not angry with me for this silly trick? After all I am but two hours before my time. You know, dearest, I said six in my letter. VANE. Yes--yes! MABEL. And you have had three days to prepare you, for I wrote like a good wife to ask leave before starting, ladies and gentlemen; but he never so much as answered my letter, madam (_to Woffington, who winces_). VANE. Why, you c--c--couldn't doubt, Mabel? (_Cibber joins Snarl and Soaper at table L._) MABEL. No, silence gives consent; but I beg your pardon, ladies (_looking to Woffington_), for being so glad to see my husband. SNARL. 'Tis a failing, madam, you will soon get over in town (_laugh_). MABEL. Nay, sir, I hope not; but I warrant me you did not look for me so soon. WOFF. Some of us did not look for you at all. MABEL. What! Ernest did not tell you he expected me? WOFF. No; he told us the entertainment was in honor of a lady's first visit to his house; but he did _not_ tell us that lady was his wife. VANE (_aside to Woff._). Spare her! WOFF. (_aside to Vane_). Have you spared me? POM. No doubt he wished to procure us that agreeable surprise, which you have procured him. SNARL. And which he evidently enjoys so much. SOAP. Oh, evidently. [_Cibber, Snarl, and Soaper, laugh, aside._ VANE. You had better retire, Mabel, and change your travelling dress. MABEL. Nay; you forget, I am a stranger to your friends. Will you not introduce me to them first? VANE. No, no; it is not usual to introduce in the polite world. WOFF. We always introduce ourselves (_rises_). [_All come down except Vane and Quin._] VANE (_aside to Woff._). Madam, for pity's sake! WOFF. So, if you will permit me. POM. (_aside_). Now for the explosion! VANE (_aside_). She will shew me no mercy. WOFF. (_introducing Clive_). Lady Lurewell! CLIVE. Madam! (_She curtsies._) If she had made me a commoner, I'd have exposed her on the spot. WOFF. (_introducing him_). Sir John Brute! QUIN (_he comes forward, aside to Woff._). Hang it! Falstaff! WOFF. Sir John Brute Falstaff! we call him for brevity, Brute. POM. (_aside_). Missed fire! Confound her ready wit. VANE (_aside_). I breathe again. WOFF. That is Lord Foppington (_crosses to Cibber_), a butterfly of long standing and a little gouty. Sir Charles Pomander! POM. Who will spare you the trouble of a description (_crossing to Mabel_), as he has already had the honour of avowing himself Mrs. Vane's most humble servant. VANE. How? (_Advances C._) MABEL. The good gentleman who helped my coach out of the slough yesterday. VANE. Ah! (_goes up to the table, L. U. E._) WOFF. Mr. Soaper, Mr. Snarl--gentlemen who would butter and cut up their own fathers!