Molly. Oh, oh! his little dear!
Poly. (Alarmed.) Who’s there?
Molly. (Looking slyly at him.) ’Tis I, Mr. Pollypot, and since, for my misbehaviour, you are resolved to send me away, I come to—But what was that I heard you say? Were you saying “good bye” to anybody?
Poly. No—I—I was talking to myself.
Molly. Oh! then you are your own little dear. “Don’t open to any one but me, my little dear.”
Poly. (Aside.) The little imp has overheard us.
Molly. An’t you ashamed of yourself, Mr. Ignoramus? You preach one thing and practise another. You would turn away a couple of poor servants because they love one another honestly, whilst you have a pretty dear concealed in your apartment. But master is come home now, and he shall know of this. (Calls.) Master! master! Mr. Eustace!—
Poly. Molly, Molly, ’tis all a mistake—listen to me—
Molly. No; you had no pity for me just now; so as you said, you shall find me as flexible as the worst Plutus.—Master!—
Poly. I supplicate—I implore—you shall stay, Molly, you shall stay.