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There too again; ay, you may ring;
Sound out th' alarm-bellding, ding, ding
Dispatch your scents, 'tis all in vain,
Stray maids are seldom found again.

But harh, the uproar hither sounds;
The Colonel comes with all his hounds;
I'll wisely leave them open way,

To hunt with what success they may. 299


Colonel Oldboy re-enters, with one Boot, a Great-Coat on his Arm, &c. followed by several Servants.

Col. She's gone, by the Lord; fairly stole away, with that poaching, coney-catching rascal! However, I won't follow her; no, damme 1 take my whip, and my cap, and my coat, and order the groom to unsaddle the horses; I won't follow her the length of a spur-leather. Come here, you Sir, and pull off my boot; (whistles) she has made a fool of me once, she shan't do it a second time; not but I'll be revenged too, for I'll never give her sixpence; the disappointment will put the scoundrel out of temper, and he'll thrash her a dozen times a day; the thought pleases me, I hope he'll do it. 311

What do you stand gaping and staring at, you impudent dogs? are you laughing at me f I'll teach you to be merry at my expence.


A rascal, a hussy; zounds! she that I counted

In temper so mild, so unpraSis'd in evil;

I set her a horse-bach, and no sooner mounted,

Than, crach, whip and spur, she rides post to the devil,

But there let her run,

Be ruin'd, undone; 320

If I go to catch her,

Or back again fetch her,

Vm worse than the son of a gun.

A mischief possess'd me to marry;

Andfurther my folly to carry,

To be still more a sot,

Sons and daughters I got,

And pretty ones, by the Lord Harry.


Changes to Clarissa'! Dressing-room, Clarissa enters melancholy, with a Booh in her Hand, followed by J Enny .

Clan Where have you been, Jenny? I was enquiring for you—why will you go out without letting me know i 331 'Jen. Dear Ma'am, never any thing happened so wrrlucky; 1 am sorry you wanted me—But I was sent to Colonel Oldboy's with a letter; where I have been so used —Lord have mercy upon me—quality indeed —I say, quality—pray, Madam, do you think that I looks any ways like an immodest parson—to be sure I have a gay air, and I can't help it, and I loves to appear a little genteelish, that's what I do. 339

Clar. Jenny, take away this book.

Jen. Heaven preserve me, Madam, you are crying.

Clar. O my dear Jenny!

Jen. My dear mistress, what's the matter?

Clar. I am undone.

Jen. No, Madam j no, Lord forbid!

Clar. I am indeed—I have been rash enough to discover my weakness for a man, who treats me with contempt.

Jen. Is Mr. Lionel ungrateful, then? 349 Clar. I have lost his esteem for ever, Jenny. Since last night, that I fatally confessed what I should have kept a secret from all the world, he has scarce condescended to cast a look at me, nor given me an answer when I spoke to him, but with coldness and reserve.

Jen. Then he is a nasty, barbarous, inhuman brute.

Clar. Hold, Jenny, hold; it is all my fault. 357

Jen. Your fault, Madam! I wish I was to hear such a word come out of his mouth: if he was a minister to-morrow, and to say such a thing from his pulpit, and I by, I'd tell him it was false upon the spot. 361

Clar. Somebody's at the door; see who it is.

Jen. You in fault indeed—that I know to be the . most virtuousest, nicest, most delieatest——

Clar. How now i

Jen. Madam, it's a message from Mr. Lionel. If you are alone, and at leisure, he would be glad to wait upon you: I'll tell him, Madam, that you are busy. . -' '*

Clar. Where is he, Jenny? 370

Jen. In the study, the man says.

Clar. Then go to him, and tell him I should bfc glad to see him: but do not bring him up immediately, because I will stand upon the balcony a few minutes for a little air. \

Jen. Do so, dear Madam, for your eyes are as red as ferret's, you are ready to faint too; mercy on us! for what do you grieve and vex yourself—if I was as you—

Clar. Oh I 38a AIR.


Why with sighs my heart is swelling,
Why with tears my eyes o'erfiow;
Ash me not, 'tis fast the telling,
Mute involuntary woe.

Who to winds and waves a stranger, - ', Vent'rous tempts th' inconstant seas, in each billow fancies danger, Shrinhs at ev'ry rising breeze. 388 \ SCENE VIII. , '. S

Sir JoHit Flowerdale, Jenkins.

Sir John. So then, the mystery is discovered :—but is it possible that my daughter's refusal of Colonel Oldboy's son should proceed from a clandestine engagement, and that engagement with Lionel?

Jenh. My niece, Sir, is in her young Lady's secrets, and Lord knows she had little design to betray them; but having remarked some odd expressions of her's yesterday, when she came down to me this morning with the letter, I questioned her; and, in short, drew the whole affair out; upon which I feigned a recollection of some business with you, and desired her to carry the letter to Colonel Oldboy's herself, while I came up hither. 401

Sir John. And they are mutually promised to each other, and that promise was exchanged yesterday?

Jenh. Yes, Sir, and it is my duty to tell yon; else I would rather die than be the means of wounding the heart of my dear young lady; for if there is one upon earth of truly noble, and delicate sentiments-^

Sir John. I thought so once, Jenkins. 408

Jenh. And think so still : O, good Sir John, now is the time for you to exert that charafter of worth and gentleness, which the world, so deservedly, has given' you. You have, indeed, cause to be offended; but, consider, Sir, your daughter is young, beautiful, and amiable; the poor youth unexperienced, sensible, and

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