_Flut._ Why, what harm can there be in compliments? Sure they are not infectious; and, if they were, you, Sir George, of all people breathing, have reason to be satisfied about your Lady's attachment; every body talks of it: that little Bird there, that she killed out of jealousy, the most extraordinary instance of affection, that ever was given. _Lady Fran._ I kill a Bird through jealousy!--Heavens! Mr. Flutter, how can you impute such a cruelty to me? _Sir Geo._ I could have forgiven you, if you had. _Flut._ Oh, what a blundering Fool!--No, no--now I remember--'twas your Bird, Lady Frances--that's it; your Bullfinch, which Sir George, in one of the refinements of his passion, sent into the wide world to seek its fortune.--He took it for a Knight in disguise. _Lady Fran._ Is it possible! O, Sir George, could I have imagin'd it was you who depriv'd me of a creature I was so fond of? _Sir Geo._ Mr. Flutter, you are one of those busy, idle, meddling people, who, from mere vacuity of mind, are, the most dangerous inmates in a family. You have neither feelings nor opinions of your own; but, like a glass in a tavern, bear about those of every Blockhead, who gives you his;--and, because you _mean_ no harm, think yourselves excus'd, though broken friendships, discords, and murders, are the consequences of your indiscretions. _Flut._ (_taking out his Tablets_) Vacuity of Mind!--What was the next? I'll write down this sermon; 'tis the first I have heard since my Grandmother's funeral. _Miss Ogle._ Come, Lady Frances, you see what a cruel creature your loving Husband can be; so let us leave him. _Sir Geo._ Madam, Lady Frances shall not go. _Lady Fran. Shall_ not, Sir George?--This is the first time such an expression--(_weeping_) _Sir Geo._ My love! my life! _Lady Fran._ Don't imagine I'll be treated like a Child! denied what I wish, and then pacified with sweet words. _Miss Ogle_ (_apart_). The Bullfinch! that's an excellent subject; never let it down. _Lady Fran._ I see plainly you would deprive me of every pleasure, as well as of my sweet Bird--out of pure love!--Barbarous Man! _Sir Geo._ 'Tis well, Madam;--your resentment of that circumstance proves to me, what I did not before suspect, that you are deficient both in tenderness and understanding.--Tremble to think the hour approaches, in which you would give worlds for such a proof of my love. Go, Madam, give yourself to the Public; abandon your heart to dissipation, and see if, in the scenes of gaiety and folly that await you, you can find a recompence for the lost affection of a doating Husband. [_Exit_ Sir George. _Flut._ Lord! what a fine thing it is to have the gift of Speech! I suppose Sir George practises at Coachmakers-hall, or the Black-horse in Bond-street. _Lady Fran._ He is really angry; I cannot go. _Mrs. Rack._ Not go! Foolish Creature! you are arrived at the moment, which some time or other was sure to happen; and everything depends on the use you make of it.