LORY.
Yes, sir, the baggage!—O Lord! [Takes up the portmanteau.] I suppose, sir, I must charge the landlord to be very particular where he stows this?
TOM FASHION.
Get along, you rascal.—[Exit LORY with the portmanteau.] But, Colonel, are you acquainted with my proposed sister-in-law?
COLONEL TOWNLY.
Only by character. Her father, Sir Tunbelly Clumsy, lives within a quarter of a mile of this place, in a lonely old house, which nobody comes near. She never goes abroad, nor sees company at home; to prevent all misfortunes, she has her breeding within doors; the parson of the parish teaches her to play upon the dulcimer, the clerk to sing, her nurse to dress, and her father to dance;—in short, nobody has free admission there but our old acquaintance, Mother Coupler, who has procured your brother this match, and is, I believe, a distant relation of Sir Tunbelly’s.
TOM FASHION.
But is her fortune so considerable?
COLONEL TOWNLY.
Three thousand a year, and a good sum of money, independent of her father, beside.
TOM FASHION.
’Sdeath! that my old acquaintance, Dame Coupler, could not have thought of me, as well as my brother, for such a prize.
COLONEL TOWNLY.
Egad, I wouldn’t swear that you are too late. His lordship, I know, hasn’t yet seen the lady—and, I believe, has quarrelled with his patroness.
TOM FASHION.
My dear Colonel, what an idea have you started!
COLONEL TOWNLY.
Pursue it, if you can, and I promise you shall have my assistance; for, besides my natural contempt for his lordship, I have at present the enmity of a rival towards him.
TOM FASHION.
What, has he been addressing your old flame, the widow Berinthia?