under the table for it though. (He stoops under the table with a very bad grace, and she slyly gives it a touch with her foot, which makes it run to the other side of the stage.) Nay, you must go further off for it now. I am very troublesome.
Sir Loft. (Goes after it rather unwillingly, and presenting it to her with still a worse grace.) Madam, this is more honour than I—(mumbling.)
Mar. O, no! Sir Loftus, it is only you that are too good. (Lolling carelessly in her chair.) It is so comfortable to have such a good creature by one! your fine fashionable men are admired to be sure, but I dont know how, I feel always restrained in their company. With a good obliging creature like you now, I can be quite at my ease: I can just desire you to do any thing.
Sir Loft. Upon my honour, madam, you flatter me very much indeed. Upon my honour, I must say, I am rather at a loss to conceive how I have merited these commendations.
Mar. O! Sir Loftus, you are too humble, too diffident of yourself. I know very well the obliging turn of your disposition to every body.
Sir Loft. (aside.) Damn it! is she an ideot? (aloud.) Your good opinion, madam, does me a great deal of honour, but I assure you, ma'am, it is more than I deserve. I have great pleasure in serving Miss Withrington;—to be at the service of every body is an extent of benevolence I by no means pretend to.
Mar. Now why are you so diffident, Sir Loftus?
