Shuff. No, my dear fellow, you don't;——unless you answer it to me.
Pereg. I understand you.—In an hour, then, I shall be at the Manor-house, whence I suppose, you come. Here we are both unarmed; and there is one waiting at the door, who, perhaps, might interrupt us.
Shuff. Who is he?
Pereg. Her father;—her agonized father;——to whose entreaties I have yielded; and brought him here, prematurely.—He is a tradesman;—beneath your notice:—a vulgar brazier;—but he has some sort of feeling for his child! whom, now your friend has lured her to the precipice of despair, you would hurry down the gulf of infamy.—For your own convenience, sir, I would advise you to avoid him.
Shuff. Your advice, now, begins to be a little sensible; and if you turn out a gentleman, though I suspect you to be one of the brazier's company, I shall talk to you at Sir Simon's.
[Exit.
Mary. Is the gentleman gone, sir?
Pereg. Let him go, child; and be thankful that you have escaped from a villain.
Mary. A villain, sir!
Pereg. The basest; for nothing can be baser than manly strength, in the specious form of protection, injuring an unhappy woman. When we should be props to the lily in the storm, 'tis damnable to spring up like vigorous weeds, and twine about the drooping flower, till we destroy it.