Esop. What, what's the Matter, Lady?
Amin. My Daughter, Sir, my Daughter's run away with a filthy Fellow.
Esop. A slippery Trick indeed!
Amin. For Heaven's sake, Sir, send immediately to pursue 'em, and seize 'em. But 'tis in vain, 'twill be too late, 'twill be too late; I'll warrant at this very Moment they are got together in a Room with a Couch in't; all's gone, all's gone; tho' 'twere made of Gold, 'tis lost: Oh! my Honour, my Honour. A forward Girl she was always; I saw it in her Eyes the very Day of her Birth.
Esop. That indeed was early; but how do you know she's gone with a Fellow?
Amin. I have e'en her own insolent Hand-writing for't: Sir, take but the pains to read what a Letter she has left me.
Esop. Reads.
I love and am belov'd, and that's the Reason I run away.
Short, but significant!—--I'm sure there's no Body knows better than your Ladyship what Allowances are to be made to Flesh and Blood; I therefore hope this from your Justice, that what you have done three Times yourself, you'll pardon once in your Daughter. The Dickens!
Amin. Now, Sir, what do you think of the Business?