Doric. What! to act the Lunatic in the dying Man's chamber?
Sav. Exactly the thing; and will bring your business to a short issue: for his last commands must be, That you are not to marry his Daughter.
Doric. That's true, by Jupiter!—and yet, hang it, impose upon a poor fellow at so serious a moment!—I can't do it.
Sav. You must, 'faith. I am answerable for your appearance, though it should be in a strait waistcoat. He knows your situation, and seems the more desirous of an interview.
Doric. I don't like encountering Racket.—She's an arch little devil, and will discover the cheat.
Sav. There's a fellow!—Cheated Ninety-nine Women, and now afraid of the Hundredth.
Doric. And with reason—for that hundredth is a Widow.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.——Hardy's.
Enter Mrs. Racket, and Miss Ogle.
Miss Ogle. And so Miss Hardy is actually to be married to-night?