Omnes.  Ha, ha, ha!

Lord Lum.  Ha, ha, ha!—­Well, you are a droll girl, Rodolpha,—­and, upon my honour, ha, ha, ha!—­you have given us as whimsical a sketch as ever was hit off.

Sir Per.  Ah! yas, my lord, especially the animal assembly in Noah’s ark.—­It is an excellent picture of the oddities that one meets with at the Bath.

Lord Lum.  Why yes, there is some fancy in it, I think, Egerton?

Eger.  Very characteristic indeed, my lord.

Lord Lum.  What say you, Mr. Sidney?

Sid.  Upon my word, my lord, the lady has made me see the whole assembly in distinct colours.

Lady Rod.  O!  Maister Sidney, your approbation makes me as vain as a reigning toast before her looking-glass.—­“But, Lady Macsycophant, I cannot help observing, that you have one uncka, unsalutary fashion here in the South, at your routs, your assemblies, and aw your dancing bouts;—­the which I am astonished you do not relegate fra amongst ye.

“Lady Mac.  Pray, madam, what may that be?

“Lady Rod.  Why, your orgeats, capillaires, lemonades, and aw your slips and slops, with which you drench your weimbs, when you are dancing.—­Upon honour, they always make a swish-swash in my bowels, and give me the wooly-wambles.

“Omnes.  Ha, ha, ha!

“Lord Lum.  Ho, ho, ho!—­you indelicate creature,—­why, my dear Rodolpha—­ha, ha, ha! what are you talking about?

“Lady Rod.  Weel, weel, my lord,—­guin ye laugh till ye brust;—­the fact is still true.—­Now in Edinburgh—­in Edinburgh, my lady—­we have nai sic pinch-gut doings—­for there, guid traith, we always have a guid comfortable dish of cutlets or collops, or a nice, warm, savory haggiss, with a guid swig of whiskey punch to recruit our spirits—­after our dancing and sweating.

“Omnes.  Ha, ha, ha!

“Sir Per.  Ay, and that is much wholesomer, Lady Rodolpha, than aw their slips and their slops here in the south.

“Lord Lum.  Ha, ha, ha!  Well, my dear Rodolpha, you are a droll girl, upon honour,—­and very entertaining, I vow; [He whispers.]—­but, my dear child,—­a little too much upon the dancing, and sweating, and the wolly-wambles.

“Omnes.  Ha, ha, ha!”

    Enter TOMLINS.

Tom.  Colonel Toper and Captain Hardbottle are come, sir.

Sir Per.  O! vary weel.—­Dinner directly.

Tom.  It is ready, sir. [Exit.

Sir Per.  My lord, we attend your lordship.

Lord Lum.  Lady Mac, your ladyship’s hand, if you please.
                                           [Exit with Lady Macsycophant.

Sir Per.  And here, Lady Rodolpha, is an Arcadian swain that has a hand at your ladyship’s devotion.

Lady Rod. [Giving her hand to Egerton.] And I, sir, have one at his.—­ There, sir:—­as to hearts, ye ken, cousin, they are not brought into the account of human dealings now-a-days.