LORY.
One word with you, for Heaven’s sake. [Taking TOM FASHION hastily aside.]
TOM FASHION.
What the devil’s the matter?
LORY.
Sir, your fortune’s ruined if you are not married. Yonder’s your brother arrived, with two coaches and six horses, twenty footmen, and a coat worth fourscore pounds—so judge what will become of your lady’s heart.
TOM FASHION.
Is he in the house yet?
LORY.
No, they are capitulating with him at the gate. Sir Tunbelly luckily takes him for an impostor; and I have told him that we have heard of this plot before.
TOM FASHION.
That’s right.—[Turning to MISS HOYDEN.] My dear, here’s a troublesome business my man tells me of, but don’t be frightened; we shall be too hard for the rogue. Here’s an impudent fellow at the gate (not knowing I was come hither incognito) has taken my name upon him, in hopes to run away with you.
MISS HOYDEN.
Oh, the brazen-faced varlet! it’s well we are married, or maybe we might never have been so.
TOM FASHION.
[Aside.] Egad, like enough.—[Aloud.] Pr’ythee, nurse, run to Sir Tunbelly, and stop him from going to the gate before I speak to him.
NURSE.
An’t please your honour, my lady and I had better, lock ourselves up till the danger be over.
TOM FASHION.
Do so, if you please.