on, Lady Delacour--all I desire is, that you should go on; Clarence Hervey
will be much obliged to you, and I am sure so shall I. Go on, my Lady
Delacour--go on, and you'll oblige me."

"I never will oblige you, my lord, that you may depend upon," cried her
ladyship, with a look of indignant contempt.

His lordship whistled, rang for his horses, and looked at his nails with a
smile. Belinda, shocked and in a great confusion, rose to leave the room,
dreading the gross continuance of this matrimonial dialogue.

"Mr. Hervey, my lady," said a footman, opening the door; and he was
scarcely announced, when her ladyship went forward to receive him with an
air of easy familiarity.--"Where have you buried yourself, Hervey, this
age past?" cried she, shaking hands with him: "there's absolutely no
living in this most stupid of all worlds without you.--Mr. Hervey--Miss
Portman--but don't look as if you were half asleep, man--What are you
dreaming of, Clarence? Why looks your grace so heavily to-day?"

"Oh! I have passed a miserable night," replied Clarence, throwing himself
into an actor's attitude, and speaking in a fine tone of stage
declamation.

"What was your dream, my lord? I pray you, tell me,"

said her ladyship in a similar tone.--Clarence went on--

"O Lord, methought what pain it was to dance!
What dreadful noise of fiddles in my ears!
What sights of ugly _belles_ within my eyes!