[Exeunt Williams and John.
Frank. Must I marry this woman, whom my father has chosen for me; whom I expect here to-morrow? And must I, then, be told 'tis criminal to love my poor, deserted Mary, because our hearts are illicitly attach'd? Illicit for the heart? fine phraseology! Nature disowns the restriction; I cannot smother her dictates with the polity of governments, and fall in, or out of love, as the law directs.
Enter Dennis Brulgruddery.
Well, friend, who do you come from?
Dennis. I come from the Red Cow, sir.
Frank. The Red Cow?
Dennis. Yes, sir!—upon Muckslush Heath—hard by your honour's father's house, here. I'd be proud of your custom, sir, and all the good looking family's.
Frank. [Impatiently.] Well, well, your business?
Dennis. That's what the porter ax'd me, "Tell me your business, honest man," says he—"I'll see you damn'd first, sir," says I:—"I'll tell it your betters;—and that's Mr. Francis Rochdale, Esquire."
Frank. Zounds! then, why don't you tell it? I am Mr. Francis Rochdale.—Who the devil sent you here?