Pon. I certainly never was present—
Fan. Cruel! you were—indeed, indeed you were.
Pon. But at one wedding in my life.
Fan. And that was mine—
Pon. No, that was mine.
Fan. Merciful Heaven! I see my fate—it is disgrace and misery!
Pon. Bless you, if I could remember it; but I can’t—however I’ll speak to my master about it, and if he recollects it I dare say I shall.
Fan. I have then no hope, and the fate of the hapless Fanny is decided.
Pon. Ha! yonder I see comes my master and his lordship. I wonder what they are thinking of—they’re coming this way. I think we had better retire.
Fan. O hide me! hide me! In any corner let me hide my head, from scorn, from misery, and, most of all, from him—