TOM FASHION.
Pardon me, sir; thanks to the goodness of your chaplain, and the kind offices of this gentlewoman.
LORY.
’Tis true indeed, sir; I gave your daughter away, and Mrs. Nurse, here, was clerk.
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Knock that rascal down!—But speak, Jezebel, how’s this?
NURSE.
Alas! your honour, forgive me; I have been overreached in this business as well as you. Your worship knows, if the wedding-dinner had been ready, you would have given her away with your own hands.
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
But how durst you do this without acquainting me?
NURSE.
Alas! if your worship had seen how the poor thing begged and prayed, and clung and twined about me like ivy round an old wall, you would say, I who had nursed it, and reared it, must have had a heart like stone to refuse it.
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Ouns! I shall go mad! Unloose my lord there, you scoundrels!
LORD FOPPINGTON.
Why, when these gentlemen are at leisure, I should be glad to congratulate you on your son-in-law, with a little more freedom of address.
MISS HOYDEN.
Egad, though, I don’t see which is to be my husband after all.
LOVELESS.
Come, come, Sir Tunbelly, a man of your understanding must perceive that an affair of this kind is not to be mended by anger and reproaches.