Serg. Deuce, take me, sir, if I haven’t been looking everywhere in parlour, bed-room, kitchen, and scullery, up-stairs and down-stairs, and can’t find her out.
Capt. Oh, no doubt the old fellow has hid her away for fear of us.
Serg. Yes, I ask’d a serving wench, and she confess’d her master had lock’d the girl up in the attic, with strict orders not even to look out so long as we were in the place.
Capt. Ah! these clodpoles are all so jealous of the service. And what is the upshot? Why, I, who didn’t care a pin to see her before, shall never rest till I get at her now.
Serg. But how, without a blow-up?
Capt. Let me see; how shall we manage it?
Serg. The more difficult the enterprise, the more glory in success, you know, in love as in war.
Capt. I have it!
Serg. Well, sir?
Capt. You shall pretend—but no, here comes one will serve my turn better.