Count Bas. So, so, all's out, I find.
[Aside.
Jenny. O the mercy! why, pray, Papa, is not the Count a man of quality then?
Sir Fran. O yes! one of the unhang'd ones, it seems.
Lady Wrong. [Aside.] Married! O the confident thing! There was his urgent business then——slighted for her! I han't patience!—and for ought I know, I have been all this while making a friendship with a highwayman!
Man. Mr. Constable, secure that door there.
Sir Fran. Ah, my Lady! my Lady! this comes of your journey to London! but now I have a frolick of my own, Madam; therefore pack up your trumpery this very night, for the moment my horses are able to crawl, you and your brats shall make a journey into the country again.
Lady Wrong. Indeed you are mistaken, Sir Francis——I shall not stir out of town yet, I promise you.
Sir Fran. Not stir! Waunds! madam——
Man. Hold, Sir!—if you'll give me leave a little—I fancy I shall prevail upon my Lady to think better on't.