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Lady Dor. Neice, What have you been doing to Mr. Bellamour? he seem'd to leave us in a strange Disorder.
Ang. He looks already with the careful Face of a Marry'd Man.
Lucin. He's in one of his splenatick Fits: 'Tis an Affectation the Men have got to disguise ill Humour, and ill Manners.
Ang. See, he's return'd, and is whispering with your Maid.
Sir Toby. Giving her some private Directions, Madam, where you may see the Pearl Necklace, the Diamond Lockets and Pendants, and the Plate for your Toilet that are to be presented upon the Wedding-day.
Ang. That if there is any thing amiss, such Alterations may be made before-hand as are suitable to your own Fancy.
Lucin. Rather bribing my Maid, to discover to him who are my Visitants, what Correspondences I keep, and a thousand such a jealous enquiries.
Plac. He a Rival! what shou'd my Mistress do with such a Whiffler? He signifies no more to a Woman, than a Fly to a Camel.
Bell. Mrs. Plackett, repose entirely upon your Sincerity, and shall gratefully reward all your Services.
Lady Dor. Plackett come hither; what has Mr. Bellamour been whispering to you?
Plac. Nothing, Madam, but only to know whether my young Lady designs for the Play or the Park, that he may accordingly order his business to be where she is to be ogl'd.
Lady Dor. Some such amorous Enquiry I durst have sworn—Neice, is not our time come to be going?
Lucin. When your Ladyship pleases.
Ang. The Park, Madam, is still full—
