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MRS. CHARVILLE.

O, to a folly! When owls are hooting, and beetles humming, and bats flying about, making as many circles in the air as a summer shower does on the pool. Did you (to Charville) see the bat we caught last night?

CHARVILLE.

A bat?

MRS. CHARVILLE.

Yes, a horned bat; the ominous creature, you know, that fanciful people are frightened at. O yes, you must have seen it, for you are drawing in the muscles of your eyes and face at this very moment in mockery of the creature.

MARY.

Did you not see it, brother? It was very curious.

MRS. CHARVILLE.

He looks at no creatures but those which are bred in his kennels and his stable. I'll describe it to Sir Robert. (Going to Sir Robert, and walking with him to the bottom of the Stage, talking, and demonstrating with her hands, while Charville and Mary occupy the front.)

CHARVILLE.

So fond of natural curiosities: this is a new fancy, methinks.