ſpeaks truth. For our old Butler told my waiting-maid of a poor young creature who has been deceived, undone; and ſhe, and her whole family, involved in ſhame and ſorrow by his perfidy.
Baron.
Are you ſure the Butler ſaid this?
Amelia.
See him, and aſk him. He knows the whole ſtory, indeed he does; the names of the perſons, and every circumſtance.
Baron.
Deſire he may be ſent to me.
Amelia [goes to the door and calls].
Order old Verdun to come to the Baron directly.
Baron.
I know tale-bearers are apt to be erroneous. I’ll hear from himſelf, the account you ſpeak of.
Amelia.
I believe it is in verſe.
Baron.
[angry]. In verſe!
Amelia.
But, then, indeed it’s true.
Enter Butler.
Amelia.
Verdun, pray have not you ſome true poetry?
Butler.
All my poetry is true—and ſo far, better than ſome people’s proſe.
Baron.
But I want proſe on this occaſion, and command you to give me nothing elſe. [Butler bows.] Have you heard of an engagement which Count
