SCENE II.
The fields before Mr. Withrington's house. Enter Agnes, Mariane, and Miss Eston, who seems still busy talking, from the house, and passing over the Stage arm in arm, Exeunt. Enter, by the same side by which they went out, Sir Loftus Prettyman, and Harwood, who stands looking behind him, as if he followed something with his eyes very eagerly.
Sir Loft. (Advancing to the front of the stage, and speaking to himself.) How cursedly unlucky this is now! if she had come out but a few moments sooner, I should have passed her walking arm in arm with a British peer. How provokingly these things always happen with me; (observing Harwood.) What! is he staring after her too? (aloud) What are you looking at, Harwood? does she walk well?
Har. I can't tell how she walks, but I could stand and gaze after her till the sun went down upon me.
Sir Loft. She is a fine woman, I grant you.
Har. (vastly pleased.) I knew she would please, it is impossible she should not! There is something so delightful in the play of her countenance, it would even make a plain woman beautiful.
Sir Loft. She is a fine woman, and that is no despicable praise from one who is accustomed to the elegance of fashionable beauty.
