ACT III.
Sir Luke Limp, Mrs. Circuit, Colonel Secret, and Mrs. Simper, discover'd at a table, with a collation before them.
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
Oh! by the bye, Sir Luke—take some of these sweetmeats, my dear [to Mrs. Simper]—did not you promise to introduce to me that little agreeable piece of imperfection that belongs to the opera?—Colonel, won't you taste the champaign?
Sir LUKE.
Who, Signior Piano?—Let me assist Mrs. Simper.—Why, Madam, I made an attempt; but at present—shan't I send you a biscuit?—he is in the possession of a certain lady, who never suffers him out of her sight for a moment.
Mrs. SIMPER.
Oh! the curmudgeon!—I am vastly fond of these custards.
Sir LUKE.
Yes, they have a delicate flavour—but he promis'd, if possible, to escape for an hour—won't you? [to Mrs. Circuit.]
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
No, it gives me the heart-burn.—Then let us leave him a cover.
COLONEL.
By all means in the world.
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
But there is, likewise, another party, for whom a place ought to be kept.
Mrs. SIMPER.
Another! Who can that be I wonder?
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
A small appendix of mine.
Sir LUKE.
How, Madam!
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
You need not be jealous, Sir Luke—taste that tart Mrs. Simper—it is only my husband the Serjeant.—Ha! ha! ha!—Betty makes them herself.
Mrs. SIMPER.
Oh! you abominable creature! How could such a thought come into your head?
Sir LUKE.
Ma'am—[Offering sweetmeats to Mrs. Simper.]
Mrs. SIMPER.
Not a bit more, I thank you.—I swear and vow I mould swoon at the sight.
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
And I should receive him with the polite indifference of an absolute stranger.
Sir LUKE.
Well said, my good Lady Intrepid! But, notwithstanding, I would venture a trifle that his appearance would give you such an electrical shock——
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
You are vastly deceiv'd.
Sir LUKE.
Dare you come to the proof? Will you give me leave to introduce Mr. Serjeant? He is not far off.
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
What, my husband?
Sir LUKE.
Even he! I saw him as I enter'd the hall.
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
Impossible!
Sir LUKE.
Nay, then I must fetch him. [Exit Sir Luke.
COLONEL.
I can't conceive what the knight wou'd be at.
Mrs. SIMPER.
Why he is mad.
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
Or turn'd fool.
Enter Sir Luke, with the Serjeant's peruke on a block.
Sir LUKE.
Now, Madam, have I reason? Is this your husband or not?
Mrs. SIMPER.
It is he; not the least doubt can be made.
COLONEL.
Yes, yes, it is the Serjeant himself.
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
I own it; I acknowledge the lord of my wishes. [Kisses the block.]
Mrs. SIMPER.
All his features are there!
COLONEL.
The grave cast of his countenance!
Sir LUKE.
The vacant stare of his eye!
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
The livid hue of his lips!
Mrs. SIMPER.
The rubies with which his cheeks are enrich'd!
COLONEL.
The silent solemnity when he sits on the bench!
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
We must have him at table; but pray good folks let my husband appear like himself.—I'll run for the gown.
[Exit.
Mrs. SIMPER.
By all means in the world.
Sir LUKE.
Dispatch, I beseech you.
Mrs. Circuit returns with a gown and band.
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
Sir Luke, lend your assistance.
COLONEL.
There, place him at the head of the table.
[They fix the head at the back of a chair, and place it at table; then all sit.
Mrs. SIMPER.
Madam, you'll take care of your husband.
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
I don't want to be put in mind of my duty.
Mrs. SIMPER.
Oh, Madam! I know that very well.
Sir LUKE.
Come, Hob or Nob, Master Circuit—let us try if we can't fuddle the Serjeant.
COLONEL.
O! fye! have a proper respect for the coif.
Mrs. SIMPER.
Don't be too facetious, Sir Luke: it is not quite so safe to sport with the heads of the law; you don't know how soon you may have a little business together.
Sir LUKE.
But come, the Serjeant is sulky.—I have thought of a way to divert him:—You know he is never so happy as when he is hearing a cause; suppose we were to plead one before him; Mrs. Circuit and I to be counsel, the colonel the clerk, and Mrs. Simper the cryer.
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
The finest thought in the world! And stay, to conduct the trial with proper solemnity, let's rummage his wardrobe; we shall there be able to equip ourselves with suitable dresses.
Sir LUKE.
Alons, alons!
Mrs. SIMPER.
There is no time to be lost.
[All rise.
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
[Stopping short as they are going out.] But won't my husband be angry, if we leave him alone? Bye, dearee—we shall soon return to thee again.
[Exeunt.
Enter Serj. Circuit, not perceiving the collation.
SERJEANT.
So, my lord not being able to sit, there was no occasion for me.—I can't put that girl's nonsense out of my head—My wife is young to be sure, and loves pleasure I own; but as to the main article, I have not the least ground to suspect her in that—No, no!—And then Sir Luke! my prosien ami, the dearest friend I have in the—Heyday! [seeing the collation] What the deuce have we here?—A collation!—So, so—I see madam knows how to divert herself during my absence.—What's this? [seeing the block] Oh, ho! ha! ha! ha!—Well, that's pretty enough I protest.—Poor girl, I see she could not be happy without having something at table that resembled me.—How pleas'd she will be to find me here in propriâ personâ.—By your leave, Mrs. Circuit—[sits down and eats] Delicate eating, in troth—and the wine [drinks]—Champaign as I live—must have t'other glass—They little think how that gentleman there regales himself in their absence—Ha! ha! ha!—quite convenient, I vow—the heat of the weather has made me—Come, brother Coif, here's your health—[drinks]—I must pledge myself I believe—[drinks again]—devilish strong—pshut!—Somebody's coming—[gets up and goes towards the wings]—What do I see? Four lawyers! What the devil can be the meaning of this? I should be glad to get at the bottom of—Hey! By your leave, brother Serjeant—I must crave the use of your robe—[sits down, and gets under the gown]—Between ourselves, this is not the first time this gown has cover'd a fraud.
Enter Sir Luke, Colonel, Mrs. Circuit, and Mrs. Simper, dressed as counsellors.
Sir LUKE.
Come, come, gentlemen, dispatch, the court has been waiting some time. Brother Circuit, you have look'd over your brief?
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
What, do you suppose, Sir, that like some of our brethren I defer that till I come into court? No, no.
Sir LUKE.
This cause contains the whole marrow and pith of all modern practice.
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
One should think, Sir Luke, you had been bred to the bar.
Sir LUKE.
Child, I was some years in the Temple; but the death of my brother robb'd the robe of my labours.
Mrs. SIMPER.
What a loss to the public!
Sir LUKE.
You are smart, Mrs. Simper. I can tell you, Serjeant Snuffle, whose manner I study'd, pronounc'd me a promising youth.
Mrs. SIMPER.
I don't doubt it.
Sir LUKE.
But let us to business. And first, for the state of the case: The parties you know are Hobson and Nobson; the object of litigation is a small parcel of land, which is to decide the fate of a borough.
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
True; call'd Turnbury Mead.
Sir LUKE.
Very well. Then to bring matters to a short issue, it was agreed, that Nobson should on the premises cut down a tree, and Hobson bring his action of damage.
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
True, true.
Sir LUKE.
The jury being sworn, and the counsellors feed, the court may proceed.—Take your seats—But hold—I hope no gentleman has been touch'd on both sides.
ALL.
Oh! fye!
Sir LUKE.
Let silence be call'd.
Mrs. SIMPER.
Silence in the court!
Sir LUKE.
But stop. To be regular, and provide for fresh causes, we must take no notice of the borough and lands, the real objects in view, but stick fast to the tree, which is of no importance at all.
ALL.
True, true.
Sir LUKE.
Brother Circuit, you may proceed.
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
Gentlemen of the Jury.—I am in this cause counsel for Hobson, the plaintiff.—The action is brought against Nebuchadonezer Nobson, That he the said Nobson did cut down a tree, value two-pence, and to his own use said tree did convert.—Nobson justifies, and claims tree as his tree. We will, gentlemen, first state the probable evidence, and then come to the positive: and first as to the probable.—When was this tree here belonging to Hobson, and claim'd by Nobson, cut down? Was it cut down publicly in the day, in the face of the sun, men, women, and children, all the world looking on?—No; it was cut down privately, in the night, in a dark night, nobody did see, nobody could see.—Hum—And then with respect and regard to this tree, I am instructed to say, gentlemen, it was a beautiful, an ornamental tree to the spot where it grew. Now can it be thought that any man would come for to go in the middle of the night, nobody seeing, nobody did see, nobody could see, and cut down a tree, which tree was an ornamental tree, if tree had been his tree?—Certainly no.—And again, gentlemen, we moreover insist, that this tree was not only ornamental to the spot where it grew, but it was a useful tree to the owner; it was a plumb-tree, and not only a plum-tree, but I am authored to say the best of plum-trees, it was a damsin plum.—Now can it be thought, that any man wou'd come for to go, in the middle of the night, nobody seeing, nobody did see, nobody could see, and cut down a tree; which tree was not only an ornamental tree, but a useful tree, and not only a useful tree, but a plum-tree; and not only a plum-tree, but the best of plum-trees, a damsin plum? Most assuredly no.—If so be then, that this be so, and so it most certainly is, I apprehend no doubt will remain with the court, but my client a verdict will have, with full costs of suits, in such a manner and so forth, as may nevertheless appear notwithstanding.
Sir LUKE.
Have you done, Mr. Serjeant?
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
You may proceed.
Sir LUKE.
Gentlemen of the jury—I am in this cause counsel for Hob—Zouns! I think the head moves.
ALL.
Hey!
COLONEL.
No, no, Mrs. Simper, jogg'd the chair with her foot, that was all.
Sir LUKE.
For Hercules Hobson—(I cou'd have sworn it had stir'd)—I sha'nt gentlemen upon this occasion, attempt to move your passions, by flowing periods, and rhetorical flowers, as Mr. Serjeant has done; no, gentlemen, if I get at your hearts, I will make my way thro' your heads, however thick they may be—in order to which, I will pursue the learned gentleman, thro' what he calls his probable proofs: and first, as to this tree's being cut down in the night; in part we will grant him that point, but, under favour, not a dark night, Mr. Serjeant; no, quite the reverse, we can prove that the moon shone bright, with uncommon lustre that night—So that if so be as how people did not see that was none—[Serjeant sneezes.] nay, Mrs. Circuit, if you break the thread of my—
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
Me break!—I said nothing I'm sure.
Sir LUKE.
That's true, but you sneez'd.
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
Not I.
Sir LUKE.
I am sure somebody did; it could not be the head—consider the least interruption puts one out of one's—None of our faults, they might have look'd on and seen if they would. And then as to this beautiful tree, with which Mr. Serjeant has ornamented his spot—No, gentlemen, no such matter at all; I am instructed to say quite the reverse; a stunted tree, a blighted, blasted tree; a tree not only limbless, and leafless, but very near lifeless; that was the true state of the tree: and then as to its use, we own it was a plum-tree indeed, but not of the kind Mr. Serjeant sets forth, a damsin plum; our proofs say loudly a bull plum; but if so be and it had been a damsin plum, will any man go for to say, that a damsin plum is the best kind of plum; not a whit, I take upon me to say it is not a noun substantive plum—with plenty of sugar it does pretty well indeed in a tart, but to eat it by itself, will Mr. Serjeant go to compare it with the queen mother, the padrigons—
SERJEANT.
[Appearing suddenly from under the gown.]
The green gages, or the orlines.
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
As I live 'tis my husband!
SERJEANT.
Nay, Sir Luke don't you run away too—give me a buss—since I was born, I never heard a finer reply; I am sorry I did not hear your argument out—but I cou'd not resist.
Sir LUKE.
This I own was a little surprise—had you been long here Mr. Serjeant?
SERJEANT.
But the instant you enter'd.
Sir LUKE.
So, then all is safe. [Aside.]
SERJEANT.
But come, won't you refresh you, Sir Luke—you have had hard duty to day.
Sir LUKE.
I drank very freely at table.
SERJEANT.
Nay, for the matter of that, I ha'n't been idle; [both drink.] But come, throw off your gown, and let us finish the bottle: I ha'n't had such a mind to be merry I can't tell the day when.
Sir LUKE.
Nay then, Mr. Serjeant, have at you—come, here's long life and health to the law. [Drinks.]
SERJEANT.
I'll pledge that toast in a bumper.—[Drinks.]—I'll take Charlot's hint, and see if I can't draw the truth out of the Knight by a bottle. [Aside.]
Sir LUKE.
I'll try if I can't fuddle the fool, and get rid of him that way. [Aside.]
SERJEANT.
I could not have thought it: why where the deuce did you pick up all this? But by the bye, pray who was the cryer?
Sir LUKE.
Did not you know her? Mrs. Simper, your neighbour.
SERJEANT.
A pestilent jade! she's a good one I warrant.
Sir LUKE.
She is thought very pretty; what say you to a glass in her favor?
SERJEANT.
By all means in the world! [they drink] and that spark the clerk?
Sir LUKE.
Colonel Secret, a friend to the lady you toasted.
SERJEANT.
A friend! oh, ay—I understand you—come, let us join 'em together.
Sir LUKE.
Alons. [drink.] Egad, I shall be caught in my own trap, I begin to feel myself fluster'd already. [Aside.]
SERJEANT.
Delicate white wine, indeed! I like it better every glass. [Sings.]
| Drink and drive care away, Drink and be merry. |
Sir LUKE.
True, my dear Serjeant—this is the searcher of secrets—the only key to the heart.
SERJEANT.
Right boy, in veritas vino.
Sir LUKE.
No deceit in a bumper. [Sings.] Drink and be merry.
SERJEANT.
Merry! dammee, what a sweet fellow you are; what would I give, to be half so jolly and gay.
Sir LUKE.
[Appearing very drunk.] Would you? and yet do you know, Serjeant, that at this very juncture of time, there is a thing has popp'd into my head, that distresses me very much.
SERJEANT.
Then drive it out with a bumper [Drink.] Well, how is it now.
Sir LUKE.
Now!—the matter is not mended at all.
SERJEANT.
What the deuce is the business that so sticks in your stomach.
Sir LUKE.
You know, my dear Serjeant, I am your friend, your real, your affectionate friend.
SERJEANT.
I believe, it Sir Luke.
Sir LUKE.
And yet, for these six months, I have conceal'd a secret, that touches you near, very near—
SERJEANT.
Me near! That was wrong, very wrong; friends should have all things in common.
Sir LUKE.
That's what I said to myself; Sir Luke, says I, open your heart to your friend; but to tell you the truth, what sealed up my lips, was the fear that this secret should make you sulky and sad.
SERJEANT.
Me sulky and sad! ha! ha! how little you know of me.
Sir LUKE.
Swear then that you won't be uneasy.
SERJEANT.
Well, I do.
Sir LUKE.
[Rising.] Soft! let us see that all's safe;—well, Mr. Serjeant, do you know that you are—a fine, honest fellow?
SERJEANT.
Is that such a secret?
Sir LUKE.
Be quiet; a damn'd honest fellow—but as to your wife—
SERJEANT.
Well?
Sir LUKE.
She is an infamous strum—
SERJEANT.
How! it is a falshood Sir Luke, my wife is as virtuous a wom—
Sir LUKE.
Oh! if you are angry, your servant—I thought that the news would have pleas'd you—for after all, what is the business to me? What do I get by the bargain?
SERJEANT.
That's true; but then would it not vex any man to hear his wife abus'd in such a—
Sir LUKE.
Not if it's true, you old fool.
SERJEANT.
I say it is false: prove it; give me that satisfaction Sir Luke.
Sir LUKE.
Oh! you shall have that pleasure directly; and to come at once to the point—you remember last New-year's day how severely it froze.
SERJEANT.
I do recollect.
Sir LUKE.
Very well; we are all invited to dine at Alderman Inkle's.
SERJEANT.
Very right.
Sir LUKE.
Well, and I did not go: Mrs. Circuit made me dine here, in this house—was it my fault?
SERJEANT.
No, no, Sir Luke, no.
Sir LUKE.
At table says she—she said, I was the picture of you—was it my fault?
SERJEANT.
Well, and suppose you are; where's the mischief in that?
Sir LUKE.
Be quiet, I tell you;—then throwing her arms round my neck,—it is my husband himself I embrace, it is my little old man that I kiss!—for she has a prodigious affection for you at bottom—was it my fault?
SERJEANT.
But what is there serious in this, dost think I mind such trifles?
Sir LUKE.
Hold your tongue, you fool, for a moment—then throwing her Teresa aside—upon my soul she is prodigious fine every where here—was it my fault?
SERJEANT.
My fault! my fault! I see no fault in all this.
Sir LUKE.
[Hatching a cry.] No! why then my dear friend, do you know that I was so unworthy, so profligate, so abandon'd—as to—[rises] say no more, the business is done.
SERJEANT.
Ay, indeed!
Sir LUKE.
Oh! fact! there is not the least doubt of the matter; this is no hear say, dy'e see, I was by all the while.
SERJEANT.
Very pretty! very fine upon my word.
Sir LUKE.
Was it my fault? what could I do? put yourself in my place; I must have been more, or less, than man to resist.
SERJEANT.
Your fault, Sir Luke, no, no—you did but your duty—but as to my wife—
Sir LUKE.
She's a diabolical fiend, I shall hate her as long as I live.
SERJEANT.
And I too.
Sir LUKE.
Only think of her forcing me, as it were with a sword at my breast, to play such a trick; you, my dear Serjeant, the best, truest friend I have in the world. [Weeps.]
SERJEANT.
[Weeping.] Dry your tears, dear Sir Luke; I shall ever gratefully acknowledge your confidence in trusting me with the secret—[taking him forward.] But I think it might be as well kept from the rest of the world.
Sir LUKE.
My dear soul, do you think I would tell it to any mortal but you? No, no, not to my brother himself—You are the only man upon earth I wou'd trust.
SERJEANT.
Ten thousand thanks, my dear friend! sure there is no comfort, no balsam in life like a friend—but I shall make Madam Circuit remember—
Sir LUKE.
We neither of us ought to forgive her—were I you, I'd get a divorce.
SERJEANT.
So I will—provided you will promise not to marry her after.
Sir LUKE.
Me! I'll sooner be torn to pieces by wild horses—no, my dear friend, we will retire to my house in the country together, and there, in innocence and simplicity, feeding our pigs and pigeons, like Pyramus and Thisbe, we will live the paragons of the age.
SERJEANT.
Agreed; we will be the whole earth to each other; for, as Mr. Shakespur says,
| "The friend thou hast and his adoption try'd Clasp to thy soul, and quit the world beside."— |
Sir LUKE.
Zouns, here comes Madam Serjeant herself.
Enter Mrs. Circuit.
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
So, Gentlemen! a sweet tête a tête you have been holding—but I know it all, not a syllable you have said has been lost.
Sir LUKE.
Then, I hope you have been well entertained Mrs. Circuit?
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
And you, you mean spirited, dastardly wretch, to lend a patient ear to his infamous, improbable tales, equally shameful both to you and me.
SERJEANT.
How Madam! have you the assurance—
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
Yes, Sir, the assurance that innocence gives; there is not a soul, I thank heaven, that can lay the least soil, the least spot, on my virtue; nor is there a man on earth but yourself would have sat and silently listen'd to the fictions and fables of this intemperate sot.
SERJEANT.
Why to be sure the knight is overtaken a little; very near drunk.
Sir LUKE.
I hope he believes it is a lie. [Aside.]
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
Do me instant justice on this defamer, this lyar, or never more expect to see me in your house.
SERJEANT.
I begin to find out the fraud, this is all a flam of the knight's.
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
I'll drive this instant to a friend of mine in the Commons, and see if no satisfaction can be had, for blasting the reputation of a woman like me—and hark you Sir, what inducement, what devil could prompt?—
SERJEANT.
Ay; what devil could prompt—
Sir LUKE.
Heyday!
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
But I guess at your motive; you flatter'd yourself, that by marrying Charlot, and discarding of me you should engross all his affections and—
SERJEANT.
True, true—stop, my life, let me come at him, a little: hark you, Mr. Knight, I begin to discover that you are a very sad dog.
Sir LUKE.
Et tu Brute!
SERJEANT.
Brute!—you'll find I am not the brute you would have made me believe—I have consider'd both sides of the question.
Sir LUKE.
Both sides of the question?
SERJEANT.
Both: if your story is true, you are a scoundrel to debauch the wife of your friend; and if it is false, you are an infamous lyar.
Sir LUKE.
Well argued.
SERJEANT.
So in both cases, get out of my house.
Sir LUKE.
Nay, but Serjeant—
SERJEANT.
Troop I tell you, and never again enter these walls—you have libelled my wife, and I will see you no more.
Sir LUKE.
Was there ever such a—
SERJEANT.
March! and as to my daughter, I would as soon marry her to a forma pauperis client.
[Exit Sir Luke.
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
Do you consider, Mr. Circuit, where you are pushing the fellow?—That chamber is Charlot's.
Enter Sir Luke, Woodford, Charlot, and Jack.
Sir LUKE.
Heyday! who the deuce have we here?—Pray walk in, my good folks—your servant Miss Charlot; your servant Mr. What-d'ye-call-um.—Mr. Serjeant, you need not trouble yourself to cater for Miss; your family you see can provide for themselves.
SERJEANT.
Heyday! What the deuce is all this! Who are you Sir, and how came you here? [To Woodford.]
JACK.
It was I, father, that brought him.
SERJEANT.
How, sirrah!
Sir LUKE.
Well said my young limb of the law.
JACK.
Come, let us have none o'your—tho' I brought Mr. Woodford, you could not persuade me to do the same office for you—father, never stir if he did not make me the proffer, if I would let him into the house the night you was at Kingston, of a new pair of silk stockings, and to learn me a minuet.
Sir LUKE.
Me! I should never have got you to turn out your toes.
JACK.
Ay, and moreover you made me push out my chest, and do so with my fingers, as if I was taking two pinches of snuff.
Sir LUKE.
You see, Mr. Serjeant, what a fondness, I have for every twig of your family.
SERJEANT.
I shall thank you hereafter—but from you, Charlot, I expected other guess—
CHARLOT.
When, Sir, you hear this whole matter explain'd, you will acquit I am sure.
WOODFORD.
Indeed, Sir, I am wholly to blame; my being here was as much a surprize upon Miss Charlot as—
SERJEANT.
But now you are here, pray what's your business?
JACK.
O! father, I can acquaint you with that—he wanted me to bring a love letter to Charlot, so I told him he might bring it himself, for that I would not do any such thing for never so much, for fear of offending of you.
SERJEANT.
You mended the matter indeed—but after all, who, and what are you?
JACK.
It's the young gentleman that lives over our heads, to whom Mr. Fairplay is guardian.
SERJEANT.
Who, Woodford?
JACK.
The same.
SERJEANT.
And are you, young man in a situation to think of a wife?
WOODFORD.
I am flattered, Sir, that as justice is with me, I shall one day have no contemptible fortune to throw at her feet.
SERJEANT.
Justice is! What signifies justice?—Is the law with you, you fool?
WOODFORD.
With your help, Sir, I should hope for their union, upon this occasion at least.
SERJEANT.
Well, Sir, I shall re-consider your papers, and, if there are probable grounds, I may be induc'd to hear your proposals.
WOODFORD.
Nay then, Sir, the recovering my paternal possessions makes me anxious indeed.—Could I hope that the young lady's good wish would attend me?
CHARLOT.
I have a father, and can have no will of my own.
Sir LUKE.
So then it seems poor Pil Garlick here is discarded at once.
SERJEANT.
Why, could you have the impudence, after what has happen'd, to hope that——
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
He has given wonderful proofs of his modesty.
Sir LUKE.
Be quiet, Mrs. Circuit.—Come, good folks, I will set all matters to rights in a minute; and first, Mr. Serjeant, it becomes me to tell you, that I never intended to marry your daughter.
SERJEANT.
How! never!
Sir LUKE.
Never. She is a fine girl I allow; but would it now, Mr. Serjeant, have been honest in me, to have robb'd the whole sex of my person, and confin'd my favors to her?
SERJEANT.
How!
Sir LUKE.
No! I was struck with the immorality of the thing; and therefore to make it impossible that you should ever give me your daughter, I invented the story I told you concerning Mrs. Circuit and me.
SERJEANT.
How!
Sir LUKE.
Truth, upon my honour.—Your wife there will tell you the whole was a lye.
SERJEANT.
Nay, then indeed.—But with what face can I look up to my dear? I have injur'd her beyond the hopes of forgiveness.—Wou'd you, lovee, but pass an act of oblivion—
Sir LUKE.
See me here prostrate to implore your clemency in behalf of my friend.
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
Of that I can't determine directly.—But as you seem to have some sense of your guilt, I shall grant you a reprieve for the present, which contrition and amendment may, perhaps, in time swell into a pardon.
| But if again offending you are caught, |
SERJEANT. |
Then let me suffer, dearee, as I ought. |
FINIS.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
Contemporary spelling has been retained, even where inconsistent, although a very few obvious typographical errors have been corrected (e.g. identity replaced idenity). Missing punctuation has been added.