John. Why, sir, he was a fine bold-spirited boy, though the best tempered creature in the world—so last war he would be a sailor, and fight the French and Spaniards, and away he went, nobody could stop him, and we have never heard a word of him since.
Mary. Ay, he is dead or killed, I warrant—for if he was alive, I am sure nothing would keep him from coming to see his poor daddy and mamma as he used to call us. Many a night have I lain awake thinking of him!
Harf. (to Beau.). I can hold no longer.
Beau. (to him). Restrain yourself awhile. Well, my friends, in return for your kindness, I will tell you some news that will please you. This same Harford, Edward Harford....
Mary. Ay, that was his name—my dear Ned!—What of him, sir, is he living?
John. Let the gentlemen speak, my dear.
Beau. Ned Harford is now alive and well, and a lieutenant in his majesty’s navy, and as brave an officer as any in the service.
John. I hope you do not jest with us, sir?
Beau. I do not, upon my honour.
Mary. Oh, thank God—thank God—if I could but see him!