Pereg. Let me make a proposal to you, my old friend. Permit me to settle with the officers, and to clear all demands upon you. Make it a debt, if you please. I will have a hold, if it must be so, on your future profits in trade; but do this, and I promise to restore your daughter to you.
Job. What? bring back my child! Do you know where she is? Is she safe? Is she far off? Is——
Pereg. Will you receive the money?
Job. Yes, yes; on those terms—on those conditions. But where is Mary?
Pereg. Patience. I must not tell you yet; but, in four-and-twenty hours, I pledge myself to bring her back to you.
Job. What, here? to her father's house? and safe? Oh, 'sbud! when I see her safe, what a thundering passion I'll be in with her! But you are not deceiving me? You know, the first time you came into my shop, what a bouncer you told me, when you were a boy.
Pereg. Believe me, I would not trifle with you now. Come, come down to your shop, that we may rid it of its present visitants.
Job. I believe you dropt from the clouds, all on a sudden, to comfort an old, broken-hearted brazier.
Pereg. I rejoice, my honest friend, that I arrived at so critical a juncture; and, if the hand of Providence be in it, 'tis because Heaven ordains, that benevolent actions, like yours, sooner or later, must ever meet their recompense.
[Exeunt.