Page:A Series of Plays on the Passions Volume 3.pdf/246

214

Jean. Nay, my Lady, you make me do it so often, I'm tired of taking him off.

Countess. Do as you are bid, child.

Jean. "Dear gentle idol of a heart too fond, "Why doth that eye of sweetest sympathy—"

Hov. Ha, ha, ha! Excellent!

Bar. (off his guard.) By Heaven, this is too bad! Your servants taught to turn me into ridicule!

Countess. (starting.) How's this? Mercy on me!

Hov. Be not alarmed, Countess; I thought he would surprise you. My friend is the best mimick in Europe.

Countess. I can scarcely recover my surprise. (To Baron) My dear Sir, I cannot praise you enough. You have a wonderful talent. The Baron's own mouth could not utter his voice more perfectly than yours.

Bar. (pulling off his cap and beard.) No, Madam, not easily. (Jean. shrieks out, and the Countess stands in stupid amazement.) This disguise, Madam, has procured for me a specimen of the amiable dispositions of a heart formed for tenderness, with a sample of your talents for mimickry into the bargain; and so I wish you good day, with thanks for my morning's amusement.

Countess. (recovering herself.) Ha, ha, ha! You understand mumming very well, Baron, but I still better. I acted my part well.