Handy, jun. Yes, those charms have conquered.
Susan. Oh! no; do not so disgrace the victory you have gained—'tis your own virtue that has triumphed.
Handy, jun. My Susan! how true it is that fools alone are vicious. But let us fly to my father, and obtain his consent. On recollection, that may not be quite so easy. His arrangements with Sir Philip Blandford are—are—not mine, so there's an end of that. And Sir Philip, by misfortune, knows how to appreciate happiness. Then poor Miss Blandford—upon my soul I feel for her.
Susan. [Ironically.] Come, don't make yourself miserable. If my suspicions be true, she'll not break her heart for your loss.
Handy, jun. Nay, don't say so; she will be unhappy.
Ash. [Without.] There he is. Dame, shall I shoot at un?
Dame. No.
Susan. My father's voice.
Ash. Then I'll leather un wi' my stick.
Enter Ashfield and Dame.