A Fine Lady
A Lady’s Apartment. Two Chambermaids enter.
First Chambermaid. Are all things set in order? The toilette fixed, the bottles and combs put in form, and the chocolate ready?
2nd Cham. ’Tis no greater matter whether they be right or not; for right or wrong we shall be sure of our lecture. I wish for my part that my time were out.
1st Cham. Nay, ’tis a hundred to one but we may run away before our time be half expired, and she’s worse this morning than ever. Here she comes.
Lady Lurewell enters.
Lure. Ay, there’s a couple of you indeed! But how, how in the name of negligence could you two contrive to make a bed as mine was last night; a wrinkle on one side, and a rumple on t’other; the pillows awry, and the quilt askew. I did nothing but tumble about and fence with the sheets all night along. Oh! my bones ache this morning as if I had lain all night on a pair of Dutch stairs.—Go, bring chocolate. And, d’ye hear? be sure to stay an hour or two at least.—Well! these English animals are so unpolished! I wish the persecution would rage a little harder, that we might have more of these French refugees among us.
The Maids enter with chocolate.
These wenches are gone to Smyrna for this chocolate—— And what made you stay so long?
Cham. I thought we did not stay at all, madam.
Lure. Only an hour and a half by the slowest clock in Christendom—and such salvers and dishes too! The lard be merciful to me! what have I committed to be plagued with such animals? Where are my new japan salvers? Broke, o’ my conscience! all to pieces, I’ll lay my life on’t.
Cham. No, indeed, madam, but your husband——
Lure. How! husband, impudence! I’ll teach you manners. (Gives her a box on the ear.) Husband! Is that your Welsh breeding? Ha’n’t the Colonel a name of his own?
Cham. Well, then, the Colonel. He used them this morning, and we ha’n’t got them since.
Lure. How! the Colonel use my things! How dare the Colonel use any thing of mine? But his campaign education must be pardoned. And I warrant they were fisted about among his dirty levée of disbanded officers? Faugh! the very thoughts of them fellows, with their eager looks, iron swords, tied-up wigs, and tucked in cravats, make me sick as death. Come, let me see. (Goes to take the chocolate, and starts back.) Heavens protect me from such a sight! Lord, girl! when did you wash your hands last? And have you been pawing me all this morning with them dirty fists of yours? (Runs to the glass.) I must dress all over again. Go, take it away, I shall swoon else. Here, Mrs. Monster, call up my tailor; and d’ye hear? you, Mrs. Hobbyhorse, see if my company be come to cards yet.
The Tailor enters.
Oh, Mr. Remnant! I don’t know what ails these stays you have made me; but something is the matter, I don’t like them.
Rem. I am very sorry for that, madam. But what fault does your ladyship find?
Lure. I don’t know where the fault lies; but, in short, I don’t like them; I can’t tell how; the things are well enough made, but I don’t like them.
Rem. Are they too wide, madam?
Lure. No.
Rem. Too straight, perhaps?
Lure. Not at all! they fit me very well; but—lard bless me; can’t you tell where the fault lies?
Rem. Why, truly, madam, I can’t tell. But your ladyship, I think, is a little too slender for the fashion.
Lure. How! too slender for the fashion, say you?
Rem. Yes, madam! there’s no such thing as a good shape worn among the quality; you fine waists are clear out, madam.
Lure. And why did not you plump up my stays to the fashionable size?
Rem. I made them to fit you, madam.
Lure. Fit me! fit my monkey. What, d’ye think I wear clothes to please myself! Fit me! fit the fashion, pray; no matter for me—I thought something was the matter, I wanted quality-air. Pray, Mr. Remnant, let me have a bulk of quality, a spreading counter. I do remember now, the ladies in the apartments, the birth-night, were most of them two yards about. Indeed, sir, if you contrive my things any more with your scanty chambermaid’s air, you shall work no more for me.
Rem. I shall take care to please your ladyship for the future. [Exit.
A Servant enters.
Serv. Madam, my master desires——
Lure. Hold, hold, fellow; for gad’s sake, hold; if thou touch my clothes with that tobacco breath of thine, I shall poison the whole drawing-room. Stand at the door pray, and speak. (Servant goes to the door and speaks.)
Serv. My master, madam, desires——
Lure. Oh, hideous! Now the rascal bellows so loud that he tears my head to pieces. Here, awkwardness, go take the booby’s message, and bring it to me.
(Maid goes to the door, whispers, and returns.)
Cham. My master desires to know how your ladyship rested last night, and if you are pleased to admit of a visit this morning.
Lure. Ay—why this is civil. ’Tis an insupportable toil though for women of quality to model their husbands to good breeding.
George Farquhar (1678–1707).