Sir Abel. Once more.
Gerald. My lawful, wedded wife.
Sir Abel. Oh, my dear fellow!—Oh, my dear boy! Oh, my dear girl!—[Embraces Gerald and the rest.] Oh, my dear! [Running to Mrs. Gerald.] No—yes, now she an't my wife, I will—well—how will you have the five thousand? Will you have it in cash, or in bank notes—or stocks, or India bonds, or lands, or patents, or——
Gerald. No—land will do—I wish to kill my own mutton.
Sir Abel. Sir, you shall kill all the sheep in Hampshire.
Gerald. Sir Abel, you have lost five thousand pounds, and with it, properly managed, an excellent wife, who, though I cannot condescend to take again as mine—you may depend on't shall never trouble you. Come! this way [Beckoning to Mrs. Gerald.]—important events now call on me, and prevent my staying longer with this company. Sir Abel, we shall meet soon. Nay, come, you know I'm not used to trifle; Come, come—[She reluctantly, but obediently, crosses the stage, and runs off—Gerald follows.]
Sir Abel. [Imitating.] Come, come—That's a damn'd clever fellow! Joy, joy, my boy! Here, here, your hands—The first use I make of liberty, is to give happiness—I wish I had more imitators—Well, what will you do? [Walks about exultingly.] Where will you go? I'll go any where you like—Will you go to Bath, or Brighton, or Petersburgh, or Jerusalem, or Seringapatam? all the same to me—we single fellows—we rove about—nobody cares about us—we care for nobody.
Handy, jun. I must to the Castle, father.
Sir Abel. Have with you Bob. [Singing.] "I'll sip every flower—I'll change every hour."—[Beckoning.]—Come, come—[Exeunt Sir Abel, Handy, jun. and Susan. Susan kisses her hand to Ashfield and Dame.]
Ash. Bless her! how nicely she do trip it away with the gentry!