AUSTIN. Dear child, the admiration is the other way. (_Embraces him_. MENTEITH _shows him out_.)
AUSTIN. Upon my word, I think the world is getting better. We were none of us young men like that—in my time, to quote my future brother. (_He sits down before the mirror_.) Well, here ends Beau Austin. Paris, Rome, Vienna, London—victor everywhere: and now he must leave his bones in Tunbridge Wells. (_Looks at his leg_.) Poor Dolly Musgrave! a good girl after all, and will make me a good wife; none better. The last—of how many?—ay, and the best! Walks like Hebe. But still, here ends Beau Austin. Perhaps it’s time. Poor Dolly—was she looking poorly? She shall have her wish. Well, we grow older, but we grow no worse.
AUSTIN. Menteith, I am going to be married.
MENTEITH. Well, Mr. George, but I am pleased to hear it. Miss Musgrave is a most elegant lady.
AUSTIN. Ay, Mr. Menteith? and who told you the lady’s name?
MENTEITH. Mr. George, you was always a gentleman.
AUSTIN. You mean I wasn’t always? Old boy, you are in the right. This shall be a good change for both you and me. We have lived too long like a brace of truants: now is the time to draw about the fire. How much is left of the old Hermitage?
MENTEITH. Hard upon thirty dozen, Mr. George, and not a bad cork in the bin.
AUSTIN. And a mistress, Menteith, that’s worthy of that wine.
MENTEITH. Mr. George, sir, she’s worthy of you.
AUSTIN. Gad, I believe it. (_Shakes hands with him_.)
MENTEITH (_breaking down_). Mr. George, you’ve been a damned good master to me, and I’ve been a damned good servant to you; we’ve been proud of each other from the first; but if you’ll excuse my plainness, Mr. George, I never liked you better than to-day.
AUSTIN. Cheer up, old boy, the best is yet to come. Get out the tongs, and curl me like a bridegroom. (_Sits before dressing-glass_; MENTEITH _produces curling irons and plies them_. AUSTIN _sings_)—
‘I’d crowns resign To call her mine, Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill!’
MUSICAL INDUCTION: the ‘Minuet’ from ‘_Don Giovanni_’
_The stage represents Miss Foster’s lodging as in Act I_.
DOROTHY, R., _at tambour_; ANTHONY, _C._, _bestriding chair_; MISS FOSTER, _L.C._
ANTHONY. Yes, ma’am, I like my regiment: we are all gentlemen, from old Fred downwards, and all of a good family. Indeed, so are all my friends, except one tailor sort of fellow, Bosbury. But I’m done with him. I assure you, Aunt Evelina, we are Corinthian to the last degree. I wouldn’t shock you ladies for the world—