_Trim._ My dear Lord Hardy, this is Mademoiselle d'Epingle, whose name you've often heard me sigh. [LORD HARDY _salutes her._] Mr. Campley--Mademoiselle d'Epingle. [CAMPLEY _salutes her._] _Mad._ Votre servante, gentlemen, votre servante. _Cam._ I protest to you I never saw anything so becoming as your dress. Shall I beg the favour you'd condescend to let Mr. Trim lead you once round the room, that I may admire the elegance of your habit? [TRIM _leads her round._ _Ld. H._ How could you ask such a thing? _Cam._ Pshaw, my lord, you are a bashful English fellow. You see she is not surprised at it, but thinks me gallant in desiring it. Oh, madam! your air! the negligence, the disengagement of your manner! Oh how delicate is your noble nation! I swear there's none but the clumsy Dutch and English would oppose such polite conquerors. When shall you see an Englishwoman so dressed? _Mad._ De Englise! poor barbarians; poor savages; dey know no more of de dress but to cover dere nakedness [_Glides along the room_]. Dey be cloded, but no dressed--But, Monsieur Terim, which Monsieur Campley? _Trim._ That's honest Tom Campley. _Cam._ At your service, mademoiselle. _Mad._ I fear I incur de censure [_Pulling out the letter, and recollecting as loth to deliver it_], but Mr. Terim being your intimate friend, and I designing to honour him in de way of an husband--so--so--how do I run away in discourse--I never make promise to Mr. Terim before, and now to do it par accident---- _Cam._ Dear Will Trim is extremely obliging in having prevailed upon you to do a thing that the severity of your virtue, and the greatness of your quality (though a stranger in the country you now honour by your dwelling in it) would not let you otherwise condescend to---- _Mad._ Oh, monsieur! oh, monsieur! you speak my very thoughts. Oh! I don't know how, pardon me, to give a billet--it so look! O fie! I can no stay after it. [_Drops it, runs affectedly to the other end of the room, then quite out; re-enters._] I beg ten tousand pardons for go away to mal-propos. [_Curtsies as going._ _Ld. H._ Your servant, good madam. Mr. Trim, you know you command here. Pray, if Madam d'Epingle will honour our cottage with longer stay, wait on her in and entertain her. Pray, sir, be free. _Trim._ My lord, you know your power over me; I'm all complaisance. [_Leads her out._ _Cam._ Now to my dear epistle-- "SIR, "There is one thing which you were too generous to touch upon in our last conversation. We have reason to fear the Widow's practices in relation to our fortunes, if you are not too quick for her. I ask Lady Sharlot whether this is not her sense to Lord Hardy. She says nothing, but lets me write on. These people always have, and will have, admittance everywhere, therefore we may hear from you. "I am, sir, "Your most obedient servant, "HARRIOT LOVELY."