[In a flash Quin has re-filled his gla.s.s with wine.

PANTALOON. You are ruined!

EGLANTINE. So it seems. Rose-water for my hands, Quin.

PANTALOON. This is Sir Jeffrey Rake's revenge. It's said that he has wooed Lady Clarissa while you won her from him.

EGLANTINE. At fifteen thousand! Cheap, then, you'll admit at the price.

PANTALOON. A cheap lady, no doubt, my lord, at any price.

EGLANTINE. You know her?

PANTALOON. Her reputation only.

EGLANTINE. There's her portrait behind me. I can't turn my head. Quin, bring me my mirror.

[Mr. Talon studies the brilliant lady rather doubtfully.

PANTALOON. I trust she loves your lordship?

EGLANTINE. Gad's life! I never asked her. A monstrous unfair thing to ask of any woman of the world.

PANTALOON. Doubtless she is grateful for the sacrifice you make.

EGLANTINE. I hope not.

[Quin now has the mirror placed so that Eglantine can view his bride-to-be. It reflects other matters of importance, too.

Ah ... is that the new wig on the block? Vastly good! Quin here, Mr. Talon, has a magical touch at dressing a head. Gad, but the wig block looks as lively as I do. The mirror reflects her ladyship's portrait very well.

PANTALOON. You love her, my lord?

[At this moment and at that word Harlequin waves his wand--it is a comb as it happens--and next we hear Columbine begin again to sing.

EGLANTINE. Love, Mr. Talon, is a most unmodish thing. It may be called...!

That girl is singing again!

HARLEQUIN. She knows no better, my lord. Shall I stop her?

EGLANTINE. No. But hand me my epigrams upon love. They slip my memory. It's a pretty song. [The tablets are before him. He glances over them.] Now, let's see. Love is a ... [But he is caught by the song.] Artless as a bird!

Love ... [That fine epigram seems out of place beside the song.] When a woman loves you, she ... [But while that girl is singing, he simply cannot read the foolish words.] That might be the oldest song in the world!

HARLEQUIN. It is, my lord.

EGLANTINE. [Gives back the tablets with the wryest smile.] Take them, put them in the fire. As epigrams well enough, Mr. Talon; but perhaps the simple truth is, that I do not love her ladyship.

[And the song ceases.

HARLEQUIN. Pardon me, my lord; once more the bell!

[Quin disappears to answer it.

EGLANTINE. Gad, no more delays, or my bride will be kept waiting at the Church.

PANTALOON. Listen to me, my lord. Pay these debts of hers in full, make this settlement as you intend, and you are a pauper.

EGLANTINE. But yet a gentleman who has given his word and not broken it.

PANTALOON. You will at least allow me to postpone the payment of the debts till you are safely married. Caution's our lawyer's trade mark. Her ladyship might die, might change her mind at the very altar!

EGLANTINE. I will not allow you to cast a doubt either on her perfect health or her perfect honour ... nor let the shadow of one rest on mine.

PANTALOON. But, my lord, why has she begged you keep your marrying secret till to-day?

EGLANTINE. Perhaps she is not very proud of me, my dear Talon. It is possible.

[Harlequin flashes through the doorway and announces ...

HARLEQUIN. Sir George Rustic.

[It is Momus. Devil a doubt it is also our old friend, Clown.

EGLANTINE. Welcome, my dear George, so soon again. We didn't part till six.

CLOWN. d.a.m.ned if we did. A rake-h.e.l.ly place is London to be sure, but after Somerset ... I tell 'ee, I likes it. I been home since, washed hands and face! No; washed hands ... not face. Then to White's for my chocolate, and picked up the latest smack of gossip ... the best there's been in weeks ...

good enough to come along and tell 'ee. So here we be again.

EGLANTINE. My attorney, Mr. Joseph Talon.

CLOWN. Han't we met somewhere before?

PANTALOON. It is possible, sir, but it must be a while ago.

CLOWN. I seem to know 'ee. I've got an uncle called Joey.

ALICE. You see they always nearly remember.

CLOWN. No pleasant business a-doing by the looks of you. I guess it, and don't wonder. What was your joke as we started the cards? Man who sits to gamble at night had better have called his attorney betimes in the morning.

EGLANTINE. Ah, well remembered. Pray redeem, Mr. Talon, as soon as may be, my note of hand for fifteen thousand from Sir Jeffrey Rake's steward.

PANTALOON. My lord.

CLOWN. And it's him that this bit of gossip's about that I've come to tell 'ee. Dang it, the best that ever you heard. You must know ...

EGLANTINE. George, we detain Mr. Talon, who has business to do and no care for gossip.

PANTALOON. Oh, believe me, my lord, for an old 'un ...