S. Har. Miss Pat, make up! stand out of the way, I'll make it up. 883 The quarrels of lovers, adds me! they're a jest; So now let us leave them together. The. To gain thus upon her ; We're so much beholden it can't be exprest, I feel something here, 'Twixt hoping and fear: Haste, haste, friendly night, To shelter our flight A thousand distractions are rending my L. Aim. Pat. Pat. O mercy, breast. S. Har. Why miss, will you mind when you're spoke to, or L. Aim. not? Must I stand in waiting, While you're here a prating?,,... The. May ev'ry felicity fall to your lot. Giles. All. What a shape, what an air!— How happy, how wretched! how tir'd am I! Your lordship's obedient; your servant; good bye. ACT III. SCENE I. The Portico to Lord AIMWORTH's House. Enter Lord AIMWORTH, Sir HARRY, Lady SYCA MORE. Lady Sycamore. 'A WRETCH! a vile, inconsiderate wretch! coming of such a race as mine; and having an example like me before her! L. Aim. I beg, madam, you will not disquiet yourself: you are told here, that a gentleman lately arrived from London has been about the place to-day; that he has disguised himself like a gipsey, came hither, and had some conversation with your daughter; you are even told, that there is a design formed for their going off together; but possibly there may be some mistake in all this. II S. Har. Ay, but my lord, the lad tells us the gentleman's name; we have seen the gipsies; and we know she has had a hankering L. Syc. Sir Harry, my dear, why will you put in your word, when you hear others speaking-I protest, my lord, I'm in such confusion, I know not what to say: I can hardly support myself. L. Aim. This gentleman, it seems, is at a little inn at the bottom of the hill. 20 S. Har. I wish it was possible to have a file of musqueteers, my lord; I could head them myself, being in the militia: and we would go and seize him directly. L. Aim. Softly, my dear sir; let us proceed with a little less violence in this matter, I beseech you. We should first see the young lady-Where is Miss Sycamore, madam ? L. Syc. Really, my lord, I don't know; I saw her go into the garden about a quarter of an hour ago, from our chamber window. 31 affair, and is Despair, my S. Har. Into the garden! perhaps she has got an inkling of our being informed of this gone to throw herself into the pond. lord, makes girls do terrible things. 'Twas but the Wednesday before we left London, that I saw, taken out of Rosamond's pond, in Saint James's Park, as likely a young woman as ever you would desire to set your eyes on, in a new callimanco petticoat, and a pair of silver buckles in her shoes. 40 L. Aim. I hope there is no danger of any such fatal accident happening at present; but will you oblige me, Sir Harry? S. Har. Surely, my lord L. Aim. Will you commit the whole direction of this affair to my prudence ? S. Har. My dear, you hear what his lordship says. L. Syc. Indeed, my lord, I am so much asham'd, I don't know what to answer; the fault of my daugh ter. 50 L. Aim. Don't mention it, madam; the fault has been mine, who have been innocently the occasion of a young lady's transgressing a point of duty and decorum, which, otherwise, she would never have violated. But if you, and Sir Harry, will walk in and repose yourselves, I hope to settle every thing to the general satisfaction. L. Syc. Come in, Sir Harry. [Exit. L. Aim. I am sure, my good friend, had I known that I was doing a violence to Miss Sycamore's incli nations, in the happiness I proposed to myself 61 S. Har. My lord, 'tis all a case] -My grandfather, by the mother's side, was a very sensible man-he was elected knight of the shire in five successive parliaments; and died high sheriff of his county-a man of fine parts, fine talents, and one of the most curio sest docker of horses in all England (but that he did only now and then for his amusement)And he used to say, my lord, that the female sex were good for nothing but to bring forth children, and breed disturbance. 71 L. Aim. The ladies were very little obliged to your ancestor, Sir Harry: but for my part, I have a more favourable opinion S. Har. You are in the wrong, my lord: with submission, you are really in the wrong. H |