AUSTIN. Surely. I know. I have to ask you then to find what friends you can among this company; and if you have none, to make them. Let everybody hear the news. Tell it (if I may offer the suggestion) with humour: how Mr. Austin, somewhat upon the wane, but still filled with sufficiency, gloriously presumed and was most ingloriously set down by a young lady from the north: the lady’s name a secret, which you will permit to be divined. The laugh—the position of the hero—will make it circulate;—you perceive I am in earnest;—and in this way I believe our young friend will find himself forestalled. FENWICK. Mr. Austin, I would not have dared to ask so much of you; I will go further: were the positions changed, I should fear to follow your example. AUSTIN. Child, child, you could not afford it. SCENE IV _To there_, _the_ ROYAL DUKE, _C._; _then_, _immediately_, ANTHONY, _L._ FENWICK _crosses to_ MISS FOSTER, _R._ AUSTIN _accosts the_ DUKE, _C._, _in dumb show_; _the muted strings take up a new air_, _Mozart’s_ ‘_Anglaise_’; _couples passing under the limes_, _and forming a group behind_ AUSTIN _and the_ DUKE. ANTHONY _in front_, _L._, _watches_ AUSTIN, _who_, _as he turns from the_ DUKE, _sees him_, _and comes forward with extended hand_ AUSTIN. Dear child, let me present you to his Royal Highness. ANTHONY (_with necklace_). Mr. Austin, do you recognise the bribe you gave my sister’s maid? AUSTIN. Hush, sir, hush! you forget the presence of the Duke. ANTHONY. Mr. Austin, you are a coward and a scoundrel. AUSTIN. My child, you will regret these words: I refuse your quarrel. ANTHONY. You do? Take that. (_He strikes_ AUSTIN _on the mouth_. _At the moment of the blow_—) SCENE V _To these_, DOROTHY, _L. U. E._ DOROTHY, _unseen by_ AUSTIN, _shrieks_. _Sensation_. _Music stops_. _Tableau_ AUSTIN (_recovering his composure_). Your Royal Highness, suffer me to excuse the disrespect of this young gentleman. He has so much apology, and I have, I hope, so good a credit, as incline me to accept this blow. But I must beg of your Highness, and, gentlemen, all of you here present, to bear with me while I will explain what is too capable of misconstruction. I am the rejected suitor of this young gentleman’s sister; of Miss Dorothy Musgrave: a lady whom I singularly honour and esteem; a word from whom (if I could hope that word) would fill my life with happiness. I was not worthy of that lady; when I was defeated in fair field, I presumed to make advances through her maid. See in how laughable a manner fate repaid me! The waiting-girl derided, the mistress denied, and now comes in this very ardent champion who publicly insults me. My vanity is cured; you will judge it right, I am persuaded, all of you, that I should accept my proper punishment in silence; you, my Lord Duke, to pardon this young gentleman; and you, Mr. Musgrave, to spare me further provocation, which I am determined to ignore.