_Letit._ Laws! don't snub me before my Husband--that is to be.--You'll teach him to snub me too,--and I believe, by his looks, he'd like to begin now.--So, let us go, Cousin; you may tell the Gentleman what a genus I have--how I can cut Watch-papers, and work Cat-gut; make Quadrille-baskets with Pins, and take Profiles in Shade; ay, as well as the Lady at No. 62, South Moulton-street, Grosvenor-square. [_Exit_ Hardy _and_ Letitia. _Mrs. Rack._ What think you of my painting, now? _Doric._ Oh, mere water-colours, Madam! The Lady has caricatured your picture. _Mrs. Rack._ And how does she strike you on the whole? _Doric._ Like a good Design, spoiled by the incapacity of the Artist. Her faults are evidently the result of her Father's weak indulgence. I observed an expression in her eye, that seemed to satyrise the folly of her lips. _Mrs. Rack._ But at her age, when Education is fixed, and Manner becomes Nature--hopes of improvement-- _Doric._ Would be as rational, as hopes of Gold from a Jugler's Crucible.--Doricourt's Wife must be incapable of improvement; but it must be because she's got beyond it. _Mrs. Rack._ I am pleased your misfortune sits no heavier. _Doric._ Your pardon, Madam; so mercurial was the hour in which I was born, that misfortunes always go plump to the bottom of my heart, like a pebble in water, and leave the surface unruffled.--I shall certainly set off for Bath, or the other world, to-night;--but whether I shall use a chaise with four swift coursers, or go off in a tangent--from the aperture of a pistol, deserves consideration; so I make my _adieus_. (_Going._) _Mrs. Rack._ Oh, but I intreat you, postpone your journey 'till to-morrow; determine on which you will--you must be this night at the Masquerade. _Doric._ Masquerade! _Mrs. Rack._ Why not?--If you resolve to visit the other world, you may as well take one night's pleasure first in this, you know. _Doric._ Faith, that's very true; Ladies are the best Philosophers, after all. Expect me at the Masquerade. [_Exit_ Doricourt. _Mrs. Rack._ He's a charming Fellow!--I think Letitia sha'n't have him. (_Going._) _Enter_ Hardy. _Hardy._ What's he gone? _Mrs. Rack._ Yes; and I am glad he is. You would have ruined us!--Now, I beg, Mr. Hardy, you won't interfere in this business; it is a little out of your way. [_Exit Mrs._ Racket.