SCENE III. Lady Sarah's bed-room, almost dark, with a feeble light thrown across the floor, as from a bad fire. Enter Sir Crafty Supplecoat and Sharp, stealing softly on their tiptoes.
Sir C. Hist, hist! which is the door. Sharp?
Sharp. Never fear, Sir; come this way. (opening the door of an adjoining room.) Go in, Sir, and fear nothing. But you must sit in the dark, and not be impatient: Pry wont fail to pump her lady, and you'll hear every word that is said. (putting Sir Crafty into the room, and pretending to lock the door upon him, then exit laughing to himself as he goes out.)
(Enter Lady Sarah, and Pry carrying lights, by the same door by which Sharp went out, allowing him time to get out of the way without meeting him.
Pry. (setting down the lights.) Well, I wish this night were well over, for I had such strange dreams last night.
Lady S. Don't trouble me with your dreams now. Have you put all my muslin things into the press, and screw'd them well down? When the creases are taken out of them, they will do perfectly well to wear another day.
Pry. To be sure, my Lady; but for that old petticoat, if I do but touch it, it comes to pieces; it grieves me to see your Ladyship dragging it about
