Enter LUCY.

Sister!  I know you are come to welcome
This day’s return.  ’Twas well done.

Lucy.  You seem ruffled. 
In years gone by this day was used to be
The smoothest of the year.  Your honey turn’d
So soon to gall?

Selby.  Gall’d am I, and with cause, And rid to death, yet cannot get a riddance, Nay, scarce a ride, by this proud Widow’s leave.

Lucy.  Something you wrote me of a Mistress Frampton.

Selby.  She came at first a meek admitted guest,
Pretending a short stay; her whole deportment
Seem’d as of one obliged.  A slender trunk,
The wardrobe of her scant and ancient clothing,
Bespoke no more.  But in few days her dress,
Her looks, were proudly changed.  And now she flaunts it
In jewels stolen or borrow’d from my wife;
Who owes her some strange service, of what nature
I must be kept in ignorance.  Katherine’s meek
And gentle spirit cowers beneath her eye,
As spell-bound by some witch.

Lucy.  Some mystery hangs on it.  How bears she in her carriage towards yourself?

Selby.  As one who fears, and yet not greatly cares
For my displeasure.  Sometimes I have thought,
A secret glance would tell me she could love,
If I but gave encouragement.  Before me
She keeps some moderation; but is never
Closeted with my wife, but in the end
I find my Katherine in briny tears. 
From the small chamber, where she first was lodged,
The gradual fiend by spacious wriggling arts
Has now ensconced herself in the best part
Of this large mansion; calls the left wing her own;
Commands my servants, equipage.—­I hear
Her hated tread.  What makes she back so soon?

Enter MRS. FRAMPTON.

Mrs. F. O, I am jolter’d, bruised, and shook to death,
With your vile Wiltshire roads.  The villain Philip
Chose, on my conscience, the perversest tracks,
And stoniest hard lanes in all the county,
Till I was fain get out, and so walk back,
My errand unperform’d at Andover.

Lucy.  And I shall love the knave forever after.
          
                                          [Aside.

Mrs. F. A friend with you!

Selby.  My eldest sister, Lucy, Come to congratulate this returning morn.—­ Sister, my wife’s friend, Mistress Frampton.

Mrs. F. Pray,
Be seated; for your brother’s sake, you are welcome. 
I had thought this day to have spent in homely fashion
With the good couple, to whose hospitality
I stand so far indebted.  But your coming
Makes it a feast.

Lucy. She does the honors naturally—­
          
                                           [Aside.

Selby. As if she were the mistress of the house.—­
                                                     [Aside.