A room in Lady Wishfort's house.
LADY WISHFORT at her toilet, PEG waiting.
Merciful! No news of Foible yet?
I have no more patience. If I have not fretted myself till I
am pale again, there's no veracity in me. Fetch me the red--the
red, do you hear, sweetheart? An errant ash colour, as I'm a
person. Look you how this wench stirs! Why dost thou not fetch me
a little red? Didst thou not hear me, Mopus?
The red ratafia, does your ladyship mean, or the cherry
Ratafia, fool? No, fool. Not the ratafia, fool--grant me
patience!--I mean the Spanish paper, idiot; complexion, darling.
Paint, paint, paint, dost thou understand that, changeling, dangling
thy hands like bobbins before thee? Why dost thou not stir, puppet?
Thou wooden thing upon wires!
Lord, madam, your ladyship is so impatient.--I cannot come at
the paint, madam: Mrs. Foible has locked it up, and carried the key
A pox take you both.--Fetch me the cherry brandy then.