Lucy. You must know, my dear, the History of the Lady is this-- Her Intellects are as odd and as aukward as her Person; her mind a Composition of Hypocrisy and Vanity; her Head, like the Study of Don Quixot, Stuffed with the exploded-- Romances-- of the two last Centuries-- her Style the quaint Quintessence of Romantic Fustian, and her Manners those of a Princess in an Inchanted Castle. Omn. Ha, ha, ha, ha. Dia. Your Ladyship has a most masterly Hand in Colouring. Ly Lucy. The vain Creature endeavours to pass upon the World for five and twenty-- A Maid & Strictly Virtuous-- but is fifty at least-- grey as a Badger-- has had three Children-- one by her Coachman-- One by a Horse Granadier-- and one by her present Friend-- the tall Straping Irishman, whom they call the Captain. ha, ha, ha. Omn. Ha, ha, ha, ha. Hyd. My dear Lady Lucy, you are the very Hogarth of Ridicule, there is no mistaking the-- Original (#apart#) see, see poor Miss Dy. how She Miffs. the strapping Irishman was too plain. Omn. Ha, ha, ha, ha, O too plain, too plain.

Ly Monologue from The Covent Garden Theatre, or Pasquin Turn'd Drawcansir

Rehearse Ly's monologue