The Politician Out-Witted

by Samuel Low

Maria. Mr. Loveyet, I return'd the trunk to your son.

Humphry. His son.—Ha, ha.

Loveyet. Yes, yes, he told me so just now:—the poor dog was ready to jump out of his skin, when I told him he should have Harriet.

Enter Cantwell and Herald.

Worthnought. Oh, the devil!—Now shall I be blown up, like a barrel of gun-powder.

[Aside.

Cantwell. Servant, gentlemen and ladies.—How is your daughter, Mr. Trueman? I hope she is likely to do well.

Trueman. I hope she is, madam; it is a match which we all approve.

Cantwell. No, no, sir; I mean concerning her late affair.

Herald. Why, young Loveyet certainly would not stoop so low, as to have her now.