Lucy. Sir, She has my leave, tho' She had the Talents of a Brugier with the Ill nature of a Swift. Miss Dia. The Character I mean Sir, is not immaginary, invented by Slander and Malice, but a true Copy of a universally known Original, which is a trifling, wanton femal Rake: composed of Folly, rudeness, and Indecency. whose Vanity is in pursuit of ev'ry Fellow of Fashion She Sees, and whose Life is a continual Round of vain Inconstancy. Omn. Ha, ha, ha, ha. Ly Lucy. Very good out-lines upon Honour-- I fancy her Malice will Stir up some tollerable Ideas-- pray proceed Madam, ha, ha, ha, (#laughing ridiculously & mimick'd by the other#) M. Dia. Ha, ha, ha, O Lud Madam, I intended it-- I shall finish up the Picture to a perfect Resemblance, you may depend upon it. ha, ha, ha, ha. Ly Lucy. Well, you are an agreeable, young, blooming, giddy Creature; and really Miss your little-- youthfull prettiness becomes you. But Miss Dy-- the Charactor, the Charactor-- come I'll Sit for you; to quicken your Ideas-- you left off at vain Inconstancy. Miss Dia. I did so Madam-- and I will take it up at her affected Taste and Politeness if you please which Consist in praising ev'ry thing that's Foreign and in constantly ridiculing the Customs and Manners of her own Country tho' She herself is the most ridiculous Objection in the Nation. ha, ha. Omn. Ha, ha, ha, ha.

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

Rehearse Ly's monologue