Ash. And Heaven's blessing too. Ecod, I believe now, as thy feyther zays, thee canst do every thing!
Handy, jun. No; for there is one thing I cannot do—injure the innocence of woman.
Ash. Drabbit it! I shall walk in the road all day to zee Sue ride by in her own coach.
Susan. You must ride with me, father.
Dame. I say, Tummas, what will Mrs. Grundy say then?
Ash. I do hope thee will not be asham'd of thy feyther in laa, wool ye?
Handy, jun. No; for then I must also be ashamed of myself, which I am resolved not to be again.
Enter Sir Abel Handy.
Sir Abel. Heyday, Bob! why an't you gallanting your intended bride? but you are never where you ought to be.
Handy, jun. Nay, sir, by your own confession I am where I ought to be.