Miss P. Heavens! a Jail! poor dear Mr. Tagg, a victim to his love for me—oh, let us implore his forgiveness—intreat him to release you. (to Tagg.)
Little P. (kneels and throws off his disguise as Tagg, and appears in his own hair, though still in the sailor’s dress) Thus let me implore for pardon, and believe, that a repentance so sincere as mine, will never suffer my heart again to wander from it’s duty towards him.
Pick. What’s this? my son (embracing Little Pickle) Odds my heart, I’m glad to see him once more—Oh you dear little fellow!—but you wicked scoundrel, how did you dare play me such tricks?
Little P. Tricks! Oh, sir, recollect you have kindly pardon’d them already; and now you must intercede for me with my aunt, that I may have her forgiveness too, for preventing her from eloping as she designed with her tender swain Mr. Tagg.
Pick. Mr. Tagg, odso, then the consols were sinking apace, but you have raised them once more.
Little P. And do you then, indeed, sir; sincerely forgive me, and forget all my follies?
Pick. Forget ’em, ah! had you vex’d me as much again, I should be more than repaid by the happiness of this moment.
Little P. Kind, sir, my joy is then complete, and I will never more offend.
[comes forward.