SCENE: A dressing room in Mrs. Malaprop's lodgings.
_Enter_ MRS. MALAPROP, LYDIA, _and_ SIR ANTHONY
MRS. MALAPROP. There, Sir Anthony, there stands the deliberate
simpleton, who wants to disgrace her family and lavish herself on a
fellow not worth a shilling.
LYDIA. Madam, I thought you once--
MRS. M. You thought, miss! I don't know any business you have to think
at all: thought does not become a young woman. But the point we would
request of you is, that you will promise to forget this fellow--to
illiterate him, I say, from your memory.
LYD. Ah, madam! our memories are independent of our wills. It is not so
easy to forget.
MRS. M. But I say it is, miss! there is nothing on earth so easy as to
forget, if a person chooses to set about it. I'm sure I have as much
forgot your poor dear uncle, as if he had never existed; and I thought
it my duty so to do; and let me tell you, Lydia, these violent memories
don't become a young woman.
LYD. What crime, madam, have I committed, to be treated thus?
MRS.
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