Sir Tun. God's my life, I ask your Lordship's Pardon ten thousand times. [To his Servant.] Here, run in a-doors quickly: Get a Scotch-Coal Fire in the great Parlour; set all the Turkey-work-Chairs in their places; get the great Brass Candlesticks out; and be sure stick the Sockets full of Laurel; run. [Turning to Young Fash.] My Lord, I ask your Lordship's pardon. [To other Servants.] And do you hear, run away to Nurse, bid her let Miss Hoyden loose again, and if it was not shifting Day, let her put on a clean Tucker—quick!
[Exeunt Servants confusedly.
To Young Fash.] I hope your Honour will excuse the disorder of my Family; we are not us'd to receive Men of your Lordship's great Quality every day; pray where are your Coaches and Servants, my Lord?
Young Fash. Sir, that I might give you and your fair Daughter a proof how impatient I am to be nearer akin to you, I left my Equipage to follow me, and came away Post with only one servant.
Sir Tun. Your Lordship does me too much Honour. It was exposing your Person to too much Fatigue and Danger, I protest it was; but my Daughter shall endeavour to make you what amends she can; and tho' I say it, that shou'd not say it—Hoyden has Charms.
Young Fash. Sir, I am not a Stranger to them, tho' I am to her. Common Fame has done her Justice.
Sir Tun. My Lord, I am common Fame's very grateful humble Servant. My Lord——my Girl's young: Hoyden is young, my Lord; but this I must say for her, what she wants in Art, she has by Nature; what she wants in Experience, she has in Breeding; and what's wanting in her Age, is made good in her Constitution. So pray, my Lord, walk in; pray, my Lord, walk in.
Young Fash. Sir, I wait upon you.
[Exeunt.