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I suppose the man lias a tongue in his head to answer for himself.
J. Wood. Will nobody stop that prating old woman's mouth for me? Get out of the room. 120
Mrs. Deb. Well, so I can, brother; I don't want to stay: but, remember, I tell you, you will make yourself ridiculous in this affair: for, through your own obstinacy, you will have your daughter tun away with, before your face.
J. Wood. My daughter! who will run away with my daughter?
Mrs. Deb. That fellow will.
/. Wood. Go, go, you are a wicked, censorious woman. 130
Luc. Why, sure, madam, you must think me very coming, indeed.
J. Wood. Ay, she judges of others by herself; I remember when she was a girl: her mother dared not trust her the length of her apron-string; she was clambering upon every fellow's back.
Mrs. Deb. I was not.
J. Wood. You were.
Luc. Well, but why so violent f
Believe me, dear aunt, 140
If you rave thus, and rani,
The men will allfly,
And leave you to die,
Who ancient virginity 'scapes!
Than in hell be a leader of apes.
Justice Woodcock, Lucinda, Eustace.
J. Wood. Well done, Lucy, send her about her business; a troublesome, foolish creature, does she think I want to be directed by her i—Come hither, my lad, you look tolerable honest.
Eust. I hope, sir, I shall never give you cause to alter your opinion.
J. Wood. No, no, I am not easily deceived, I am
generally pretty right in my conjectures. You
must know, I had once a little notion of music myself, and learned upon the fiddle; I could play the Trumpet Minuet, and Buttered Peas, and two or three tunes. I remember, when I was in London, about thirty years ago, there was a song, a great favourite at our club at Nando's coffee-house; Jack Pickle used to sing it for us, a droll fish! but 'tis an old thing, I dare swear you have heard of it often.
When Ifollowed a lass that was froward anil shy.
When hugg'd and haul'd,
She squeal'd and squall'd;
Then hoily, toity,
Eust. Very well, Sir, upon my word.
J. Wood. No, no, I forget all those things now; but I could do a little at them once ;—Well, stay and eat your dinner, and we'll talk about your teaching the girl—Lucy, take your master to your spinnet, and shew him what you can do—I must go and give some orders; then hoity, toity, Sec.
Luc. My sweet, pretty papa, your most obedient humble servant; hah, hah, hah! was ever so whimsical an accident? Well, sir, what do think of this? 190
Eust. Think of it I I am in a maze.
Luc. O your aukwardness! I was frightened out of my wits, lest you should not take the hint; and, if I had not turned matters so cleverly, we should have been utterly undone.
Eust. 'Sdeath! why would you bring me into the house? we could expect nothing else: besides, since they did surprise us, it would have been better to have discovered the truth. 199
Luc. Ves, and never have seen one another afterwards. I know my father better than you do; he has taken it into his head, I have no inclination for a husband; and let me tell you, that is our best security; for if once he has said a thing, he will not be easily persuaded to the contrary.
Eust. And pray what am I to do now?
Luc. Why, as I think all danger is pretty well over, since he hath invited you to dinner with him, stay; only be cautious of your behaviour; and, in the mean time, I will consider what is next to be done.
Eust. Had not I better go to your father?
Luc. Do so, while I endeavour to recover myself a little out of the flurry this affair has put me in.
Eust. Well, but what sort of a parting is this, without so much as your servant, or good bye to you? No ceremony at all f Can you afford me no token to keep up my spirits till I see you again?
Luc. Ah, childish I
Eust. Let rahes and libertines, resign'd
Luc. Let vain coquets and prudes conceal
Both. The sun shall cease to spread its light,
Ros. If ever poor creature was in a pitiable condition, surely I am. The devil take this fellow, I cannot get him out of my head; and yet I would fain persuade myself I don't care for him: well but sure