Enter Randall.
Ran.
Farewell widows prave, her sall no Randalls have.
Widows was very full of wiles;
Mary Ploodhounds now, Randalls make a vow,
Was run for Moll a couple of miles.
Honest Simkins, what said Maries to Randall's letters?
Sim. You're a madman.
Ran. Augh, hur was very glad hur was mad.
Sim. The old man has money enough for her; and if you marry her, as, if her project take, you may, she'll make you more than a man.
Ran. More than mans! what's that?
Sim. Troth, cannot you tell that? this is the truth on't; she would be married to-morrow to one Ancient Young, a fellow she cannot endure: now, she says, if you could meet her privately to-night, between ten and eleven, just at the great cross-way by the Nag's Head tavern at Leadenhall.