Wild. So thou canst of anything about thee.
Dia. Well, your Project, my dear Tommy?
Wild. Thus then—Thou, dear Frank, shalt to my Uncle, tell him, that Sir Nicholas Gett-all, as he knows, being dead, and having left, as he knows too, one only Daughter his whole Executrix, Mrs. Charlot, I have by my civil and modest Behaviour, so won upon her Heart, that two Nights since she left her Father’s Country-house at Lusum in Kent, in spite of all her strict Guards, and run away with me.
Dres. How, wilt thou tell him of it, then?
Wild. Hear me—That I have hitherto secur’d her at a Friend’s House here in the City; but diligent search being now made, dare trust her there no longer: and make it my humble Request by you, my Friend, (who are only privy to this Secret) that he wou’d give me leave to bring her home to his House, whose very Authority will defend her from being sought for there.
Dres. Ay, Sir, but what will come of this, I say?
Wild. Why, a Settlement; you know he has already made me Heir to all he has, after his decease: but for being a wicked Tory, as he calls me, he has after the Writings were made, sign’d, and seal’d, refus’d to give ‘em in trust. Now when he sees I have made my self Master of so vast a Fortune, he will immediately surrender; that reconciles all again.
Dres. Very likely; but wo’t thou trust him with the Woman, Thomas.
Wild. No, here’s Diana, who, as I shall bedizen, shall pass for as substantial an Alderman’s Heiress as ever fell into wicked Hands. He never knew the right Charlot, nor indeed has any body ever seen her but an old Aunt and Nurse, she was so kept up—And there, Diana, thou shall have a good opportunity to lye, dissemble, and jilt in abundance, to keep thy hand in ure. Prithee, dear Dresswell, haste with the News to him.
Dres. Faith, I like this well enough; this Project may take, and I’ll about it. [Goes out.