Nig. What is it?
Dam. That you will give my arguments fair play, that you wont marry till I have been a wretched man a month.
Nig. Don’t exact the promise—pray don’t—it may be years before I am again in such a marrying mood. I’ll return—I will, indeed—pray wish me success—but I don’t despair—I feel quite an ardent lover again. Though I am not running away with a lady I am running after one—eh?—Ha! ha!—good bye. Now for a post chaise and a hot pursuit—for a last attack on this formidable castle of connubiality, or death in its trenches.
[Exit D.F.
Dam. Poor man—poor man.
Che. I have also received an invitation to this manor-house, with a request to bring a lady on my arm.
Dam. So have I—of course I must take you. (To MISS MACAW.)
Miss Mac. What lady else ought you to take, sir?
Che. Who is the party residing there?