Lord, madam, your ladyship is so impatient.--I cannot come at
the paint, madam: Mrs. Foible has locked it up, and carried the key
with her.
LADY. A pox take you both.--Fetch me the cherry brandy then.
SCENE II.
LADY WISHFORT.
I'm as pale and as faint, I look like Mrs. Qualmsick, the curate's
wife, that's always breeding. Wench, come, come, wench, what art
thou doing? Sipping? Tasting? Save thee, dost thou not know the
bottle?
SCENE III.
LADY WISHFORT, PEG with a bottle and china cup.
PEG. Madam, I was looking for a cup.
LADY. A cup, save thee, and what a cup hast thou brought! Dost
thou take me for a fairy, to drink out of an acorn? Why didst thou
not bring thy thimble? Hast thou ne'er a brass thimble clinking in
thy pocket with a bit of nutmeg? I warrant thee. Come, fill, fill.
So, again. See who that is. [One knocks.] Set down the bottle
first. Here, here, under the table:- what, wouldst thou go with the
bottle in thy hand like a tapster? As I'm a person, this wench has
lived in an inn upon the road, before she came to me, like
Maritornes the Asturian in Don Quixote.
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