Thus nearly all our characters have their entrances, Lady Betty is
revealed to us through the medium of the lively dialogue quoted a few
pages back, and then there is another stir. In comes Lord Foppington,
otherwise Colley Cibber, in all the vapid glory of fine clothes, and
a great periwig. A very prince of coxcombs, with his soft smile and
conscious air of superiority--a mere bag of vanity, whose emptiness is
partly hidden by gorgeous raiment, gold embroidery, rings, snuff-box,
muff and what-not. With what genteel condescension does he greet Sir
Charles; how gracefully nonchalant is he to my Lord Morelove. "My dear
agreeable! _Que je t'embrasse! Pardi! Il y a cent ans que je ne t'ai
veu_. My lord, I am your lordship's most obedient humble servant."

So Foppington takes his place in the comedy, and begins to play his
brainless but important part. He, the disconsolate Morelove, and the
brilliant Lady Betty all meet at dinner with Sir Charles and Lady
Easy. Of course the hero makes an unsuccessful attempt to regain the
good graces of his inamorata, and, of course, the coxcomb carries on a
violent flirtation with her in the angry face of his rival. With the
meal over, and everybody on the _qui vive_, this scene ensues:

* * * * *

Enter Foppington (who has been chatting to the ladies and who now
seeks the post-dinner conversation of his host and Lord Morelove).

"FOPPINGTON. Nay, pr'ythee, Sir Charles, let's have a little of thee.
We have been so chagrin without thee, that, stop my breath [what a
bloodcurdling oath, so suggestive of the awful curses of our own
_jeunesse d'orée_], the ladies are gone, half asleep, to church for