know of it, I ſhould be frighted to death—beſides I have had my tea already this morning—I'm ſure I hear my Lord. [in a fright.
Bruſh. No, no, Madam, don't flutter yourſelf—the moment my Lord wakes, he rings his bell, which I anſwer ſooner or later, as it ſuits my convenience.
Ch. Maid. But ſhould he come upon us without ringing—
Bruſh. I'll forgive him if he does—This key [takes a phial out of the caſe] locks him up till I pleaſe to let him out.
Ch. Maid. Law, Sir! that's potecary's-ſtuff.
Bruſh. It is ſo—but without this he can no more get out of bed—than he can read without ſpectacles—[ſips.] What with qualms, age, rheumatiſm, and a few ſurfeits in his youth, he muſt have a great deal of bruſhing, oyling, ſcrewing, and winding up to let him a going for the day.
Ch. Maid. [ſips.] That's prodigious indeed—[ſips.] My Lord ſeems quite in a decay.
Bruſh. Yes, he's quite a ſpectacle, [ſips.] a mere corpſe, till he is reviv'd and refreſh'd from our little magazine here—When the reſtorative pills, and cordial waters warm his ſtomach, and get into his head, vanity friſks in his heart, and then he ſets up for the lover, the rake, and the fine gentleman.
Ch. Maid. [ſips.] Poor gentleman!—but ſhould the Swiſh gentleman come upon us. [frighten'd.
Bruſh. Why then the Engliſh gentleman would be very angry—No foreigner muſt break in upon my privacy. [ſips.] But I can aſſure you Monſieur Canton is otherwiſe employ'd—He is oblig'd to ſkim the cream of half a ſcore news-papers for my Lord's breakfaſt—ha, ha, ha. Pray, Madam, drink your cup peaceably—My Lord's chocolate is remarkably good, he won't touch a drop but what comes from Italy.
