SCENE I.—Mr. Beaumont Fletcher's chambers in the Adelphi, handsomely furnished, doors R., L., and C. JONES discovered. Jones (writing). To address the lady's-maid of a marchioness is no trifling affair, especially in the present march of intellect, when the maids know more than the mistresses. One's obliged not only to mind one's stops, but one's grammar. I have been nearly three-quarters of an hour now trying to round a period—I, who French-polish the boots of a dramatic author. Ought I to put “I was smitten,” or “I was struck with your charms?”—it's very embarrassing—I must consult Mr. Fletcher. In my letter I must inclose the order he promised to procure for me; but if, with the order, I cannot conclude my letter—— Enter FLETCHER, C. door. Fle. The devil take the theatre, and all the actresses into the bargain! Jones. Has the rehearsal been unsatisfactory, sir? Fle. This Miss Constance Belmour! this Miss Constance Belmour! Jones. Sir! Fle. Is it talent or is it temper? Jones. Sir! Fle. She was execrable. Jones. Did you think, sir— Fle. Hey! what? What do you say? Jones. I was going to ask, sir, if you thought of the order? Fle. What order? Jones. The order, sir, that I asked you for this morning, for the lady's-maid of a marchioness, whom I met at Cremorne. I suppose you forgot it, sir? Fle. Oh! I had other matters to attend to.