_Sav._ What more? _Court._ Nothing--for weddings, deaths, and politics, I never talk of, but whilst my hair is dressing. But prithee, Saville, how came you in town, whilst all the qualified gentry are playing at pop-gun on Coxheath, and the country over-run with hares and foxes? _Sav._ I came to meet my friend Doricourt, who, you know, is lately arrived from Rome. _Court._ Arrived! Yes, faith, and has cut us all out!--His carriage, his liveries, his dress, himself, are the rage of the day! His first appearance set the whole _Ton_ in a ferment, and his valet is besieged by _levées_ of taylors, habit-makers, and other Ministers of Fashion, to gratify the impatience of their customers for becoming _à la mode de Doricourt_. Nay, the beautiful Lady Frolic, t'other night, with two sister Countesses, insisted upon his waistcoat for muffs; and their snowy arms now bear it in triumph about town, to the heart-rending affliction of all our _Beaux Garçons_. _Sav._ Indeed! Well, those little gallantries will soon be over; he's on the point of marriage. _Court._ Marriage! Doricourt on the point of marriage! 'Tis the happiest tidings you could have given, next to his being hanged--Who is the Bride elect? _Sav._ I never saw her; but 'tis Miss Hardy, the rich heiress--the match was made by the parents, and the courtship begun on their nurses knees; Master used to crow at Miss, and Miss used to chuckle at Master. _Court._ Oh! then by this time they care no more for each other, than I do for my country cousins. _Sav._ I don't know that; they have never met since thus high, and so, probably, have some regard for each other. _Court._ Never met! Odd! _Sav._ A whim of Mr. Hardy's; he thought his daughter's charms would make a more forcible impression, if her lover remained in ignorance of them 'till his return from the Continent. _Enter_ Saville's _Servant_. _Serv._ Mr. Doricourt, Sir, has been at Counsellor Pleadwell's, and gone about five minutes. [_Exit Servant._ _Serv._ Five minutes! Zounds! I have been five minutes too late all my life-time!--Good morrow, Courtall; I must pursue him. (_Going._) _Court._ Promise to dine with me to-day; I have some honest fellows. (_Going off on the opposite side._) _Sav._ Can't promise; perhaps I may.--See there, there's a bevy of female Patagonians, coming down upon us. _Court._ By the Lord, then, it must be my strapping cousins.--I dare not look behind me--Run, man, run. [_Exit, on the same side._ SCENE II.--_A Hall at_ Doricourt'_s_. (_A gentle knock at the door._) _Enter the Porter._ _Port._ Tap! What sneaking devil art thou? (_Opens the door._) _Enter_ Crowquill. So! I suppose _you_ are one of Monsieur's customers too? He's above stairs, now, overhauling all his Honour's things to a parcel of 'em. _Crowq._ No, Sir; it is with you, if you please, that I want to speak. _Port._ Me! Well, what do you want with me?