_Court._ Lady Frances! By Heaven, that's Saville's old flame. [_Aside._] I beg your Ladyship's pardon. I ought to have believed that such beauty could belong only to your Name----a Name I have long been enamour'd of; because I knew it to be that of the finest Woman in the world. _Mrs._ Racket _comes forward_. _Lady Fran._ [_Apart._] My dear Mrs. Racket, I am so frighten'd! Here's a Man making love to me, though he knows I am married. _Mrs. Rack._ Oh, the sooner for that, my dear; don't mind him. Was you at the _Cassino_ last night, Mr. Courtall? _Court._ I look'd in.----'Twas impossible to stay. No body there but Antiques. You'll be at Lady Brilliant's to-night, doubtless? _Mrs. Rack._ Yes, I go with Lady Frances. _Lady Fran._ Bless me! I did not know this Gentleman was acquainted with Mrs. Racket.--I behaved so rude to him! [_To Miss_ Ogle.] _Mrs. Rack._ Come, Ma'am; [_looking at her Watch_.] 'tis past one. I protest, if we don't fly to Kensington, we sha'n't find a soul there. _Lady Fran._ Won't this Gentleman go with us? _Court._ [_Looking surpris'd._] To be sure, you make me happy, Madam, beyond description. _Mrs. Rack._ Oh, never mind him--he'll follow. [_Exeunt Lady_ Frances, _Mrs._ Racket, _and Miss_ Ogle. _Court._ Lady _Touchwood_! with a vengeance! But, 'tis always so;--your reserved Ladies are like ice, 'egad!--no sooner begin to soften, than they melt. [_Following._ END OF THE SECOND ACT. ACT III. SCENE I. _Mr._ Hardy'_s_. _Enter_ Letitia _and Mrs._ Racket. _Mrs._ Racket. Come, prepare, prepare; your Lover is coming. _Letit._ My Lover!--Confess now that my absence at dinner was a severe mortification to him. _Mrs. Rack._ I can't absolutely swear it spoilt his appetite; he eat as if he was hungry, and drank his wine as though he liked it. _Letit._ What was the apology? _Mrs. Rack._ That you were ill;--but I gave him a hint, that your extreme bashfulness could not support his eye. _Letit._ If I comprehend him, aukwardness and bashfulness are the last faults he can pardon in a woman; so expect to see me transform'd into the veriest maukin. _Mrs. Rack._ You persevere then? _Letit._ Certainly. I know the design is a rash one, and the event important;--it either makes Doricourt mine by all the tenderest ties of passion, or deprives me of him for ever; and never to be his wife will afflict me less, than to be his wife and not be belov'd. _Mrs. Rack._ So you wo'n't trust to the good old maxim--"Marry first, and love will follow?" _Letit._ As readily as I would venture my last guinea, that good fortune might follow. The woman that has not touch'd the heart of a man before he leads her to the altar, has scarcely a chance to charm it when possession and security turn their powerful arms against her.--But here he comes.--I'll disappear for a moment.--Don't spare me. [_Exit_ Letitia. _Enter_ Doricourt (_not seeing Mrs._ Racket.)