You are right, my dear Lady Shrewdly: you understand me. O! did ever creature feel it so sensibly as I do! The very word genius sometimes makes me weep. (Putting her handkerchief to her eyes affectedly.)
LORD WORRYMORE.
Well, my dear wife! it is very affecting; it almost brings tears into my own eyes. (Running from one person to another.) Is it not so?—Is it not very affecting?—Could almost cry myself.—Don't you feel it?—But come, my dear love! you delay the ceremony.
LADY WORRYMORE.
It shall be delayed no longer.—Happy moment! sublime point of time! (Taking a wreath from the basket.) Thus, by an unworthy hand, is crowned the bust of personified Eloquence.
BLOUNT (toMiss Frankland).
Unveil that bust, fair lady: nothing but the hand of beauty, I suppose, must take part in such ministry.
(Miss Franklandremoves the veil from one of the busts, asLady Worrymoreraises the garland to crown it, but starts back, uttering a faint cry, on perceiving it to be the bust of her lord.)
