LADY. As I’m a person, I am in a very chaos to think I should so forget myself. But I have such an olio of affairs, really I know not what to do. [_Calls_.] Foible!—I expect my nephew Sir Wilfull ev’ry moment too.—Why, Foible!—He means to travel for improvement. MRS. MAR. Methinks Sir Wilfull should rather think of marrying than travelling at his years. I hear he is turned of forty. LADY. Oh, he’s in less danger of being spoiled by his travels. I am against my nephew’s marrying too young. It will be time enough when he comes back, and has acquired discretion to choose for himself. MRS. MAR. Methinks Mrs. Millamant and he would make a very fit match. He may travel afterwards. ’Tis a thing very usual with young gentlemen. LADY. I promise you I have thought on’t—and since ’tis your judgment, I’ll think on’t again. I assure you I will; I value your judgment extremely. On my word, I’ll propose it. SCENE IX. [_To them_] FOIBLE. LADY. Come, come, Foible—I had forgot my nephew will be here before dinner—I must make haste. FOIB. Mr. Witwoud and Mr. Petulant are come to dine with your ladyship. LADY. Oh dear, I can’t appear till I am dressed. Dear Marwood, shall I be free with you again, and beg you to entertain ’em? I’ll make all imaginable haste. Dear friend, excuse me. SCENE X. MRS. MARWOOD, MRS. MILLAMANT, MINCING. MILLA. Sure, never anything was so unbred as that odious man. Marwood, your servant. MRS. MAR. You have a colour; what’s the matter? MILLA. That horrid fellow Petulant has provoked me into a flame—I have broke my fan—Mincing, lend me yours.—Is not all the powder out of my hair? MRS. MAR. No. What has he done? MILLA. Nay, he has done nothing; he has only talked. Nay, he has said nothing neither; but he has contradicted everything that has been said. For my part, I thought Witwoud and he would have quarrelled. MINC. I vow, mem, I thought once they would have fit. MILLA. Well, ’tis a lamentable thing, I swear, that one has not the liberty of choosing one’s acquaintance as one does one’s clothes. MRS. MAR. If we had that liberty, we should be as weary of one set of acquaintance, though never so good, as we are of one suit, though never so fine. A fool and a doily stuff would now and then find days of grace, and be worn for variety. MILLA. I could consent to wear ’em, if they would wear alike; but fools never wear out. They are such _drap de Berri_ things! Without one could give ’em to one’s chambermaid after a day or two.