Had. A most fine vicar; there was no other means to be rid of him. But why are you so sad, Rebecca?
Reb. To think in what estate my father is,
When he beholds that he is merely gull'd.
Had. Nay, be not grieved for that which should rather give you cause of content; for 'twill be a means to make him abandon his avarice, and save a soul almost incurable. But now to our own affairs: this marriage of ours must not yet be known, lest it breed suspicion. We will bring you, Rebecca, unto Atlas's house, whilst we two go unto the old Lord Wealthy's, having some acquaintance with his son-in-law Carracus, who I understand is there; where no question but we shall find your father proclaiming his loss: thither you shall come somewhat after us, as it were to seek him; where I doubt not but so to order the matter, that I will receive you as my wife from his own hands.
Reb. May it so happy prove!
Light. Amen, say I; for, should our last trick be known, great Crœsus's shade would have a conjured time on't.
Had. 'Tis true, his castle of adamant would scarce hold him; but come, this will be good cause for laughter hereafter.
Then we'll relate how this great bird was pull'd
Of his rich feathers, and most finely gull'd.
[Exeunt.
Enter Old Lord Wealthy, with Carracus, Maria, and Albert.
O. Lord W. More welcome, Carracus, than friendly truce
To a besieged city all distress'd:
How early this glad morning are you come
To make me happy? for pardon of your offence
I've given a blessing, which may heaven confirm
In treble manner on your virtuous lives!