Shuff. Pshaw! my love, you mistake: the intention is to give you a settlement.
Mary. I intended to get one for myself, sir.
Shuff. Did you?
Mary. Yes, sir, in London. I shall take a place in the coach to-morrow morning; and I hope the people of the inn where it puts up, at the end of the journey, will have the charity to recommend me to an honest service.
Shuff. Service? Nonsense! You——you must think differently. I'll put you into a situation in town.
Mary. Will you be so humane, sir?
Shuff. Should you like Marybone parish, my love?
Mary. All parishes are the same to me, now I must quit my own, sir.
Shuff. I'll write a line for you, to a lady in that quarter, and—Oh, here's pen and ink. [Writes, and talks as he is writing.] I shall be in London myself, in about ten days, and then I'll visit you, to see how you go on.
Mary. O sir! you are, indeed a friend!