MABEL. Bless me; cannibals! WOFF. (_with a sweet smile_). No; critics. MABEL. But yourself, madam? WOFF. (_curtseying_). I am the Lady Betty Modish, at your service. CLIVE (_aside to Quin_). And anybody else's. MABEL. Oh dear, so many lords and ladies! VANE. Pray go, and change your dress, Mabel. MABEL. What! before you hear the news of dear Willoughby, Ernest? Lady Betty, I had so many things to tell him, and he sends me away. CIBBER. Nay, really, 'tis too cruel. WOFF. Pray, madam, your budget of country news: clotted cream so seldom comes to London quite fresh. MABEL. There you see, Ernest. First, then, Grey Gillian is turned out for a brood mare, so old George won't let me ride her. WOFF. The barbarian! MABEL. Old servants are such hard masters, my lady; and my Barbary hen has laid two eggs, Ernest. Heaven knows the trouble we have had to bring her to it. And dame Best (that's his old nurse, Lady Lurewell) has had soup and pudding from the hall every day. QUIN. Soup and pudding! that's what I call true charity. MABEL. Yes; and once she went so far as to say, "it wasn't altogether a bad pudding." I made it with these hands. CIBBER. Happy pudding! VANE. Is this mockery, sir? CIBBER. No, sir, it is gallantry; an exercise that died before you were born. Madam, shall I have the honour of kissing one of the fair hands that made that most favoured of puddings? MABEL. Oh, my Lord, you may, because you are so old; but I don't say so for a young gentleman, unless it was Ernest himself, and he doesn't ask me. [_Cibber, Snarl, and Soaper go up._] VANE (_angrily_). My dear Mabel, pray remember we are not at Willoughby. CLIVE. Now, bear, where's your paw? (_going up R._) QUIN. All I regret is, that I go without having helped Mrs. Vane to buttered toast. CLIVE. Poor Quin, first to quit his bottle half finished, and now, to leave the run of the table for a walk in the garden! [_Exeunt U. E. R._ VANE. Let me shew you to your apartment (_rings bell, leads her to door R._). [_Enter Servant L. H._] Bid the musicians play. [_Exit Servant L. H._ (_Vane offers his arm to Woff._) Let me conduct you to the garden. [_Music. Woffington gives her hand and goes off with Vane (L. C.): in going out she looks back. Music._] WOFF. (_aside_). Yes; there are triumphs out of the theatre. [_Exit with Vane, L. C._ CIBBER (_crosses to Mabel_). Mr. Vane's garden will lack its fairest flower, madam, if you desert us. MABEL (R.). Nay, my Lord, there are fairer here than I. POM. (_goes up to C. L._) Jealous, I see, already. Shall I tell her all? No; I will let the green-eyed monster breach the fortress, and then I shall walk in without a contest. CIBBER (_meeting Sir Charles at C. L._). Your arm, Sir Charles. POM. At your service, Mr. Cibber. [_Exeunt Pomander and Cibber U. E. L._ SNARL. A pleasant party, Mr. Soaper. SOAPER. Remarkably. Such a delightful meeting of husband and wife, Mr. Snarl! [_Exeunt L. C._ [_Music ceases._