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Sir Harcourt Courtly is a vain fop who has come to Oak Hall to
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SIR HARCOURT. This cool room will recover you.
LADY GAY. Excuse my trusting to you for support.
SIR HARCOURT. I am transported! Allow me thus ever to support this lovely burden, and I shall conceive that Paradise is regained.
They sit.
LADY GAY. Oh! Sir Harcourt, I feel very faint.
SIR HARCOURT. The waltz made you giddy.
LADY GAY. And I have left my salts in the other room.
SIR HARCOURT. I always carry a flacon, for the express accommodation of the fair sex. {Producing a smelling-bottle.)
LADY GAY. Thank you - ah! {She sighs.)
SIR HARCOURT. What a sigh was there!
LADY GAY. The vapour of consuming grief.
SIR HARCOURT. Grief? Is it possible, have you a grief? Are you unhappy? Dear me!
LADY GAY. Am I not married?
SIR HARCOURT. What a horrible state of existence!
LADY GAY. I am
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