Lyd. [aside]. Heavens! 'tis Beverley's voice!—[Looks round by degrees, then starts up.] Is this possible!—my Beverley! how can this be?—my Beverley!
Capt. A. Ah! 'tis all over! [Aside.
Sir A. Beverley!—the devil—Beverley! What can the girl mean? This is my son, Jack Absolute.
Mrs. M. For shame! for shame!—your head runs so on that fellow, that you have him always in your eyes! beg Captain Absolute's pardon, directly.
Lyd. I see no Captain Absolute, but my loved Beverley!
Sir A. Zounds, the girl's mad!—her brain's turned by reading!
Mrs. M. O' my conscience, I believe so!—what do you mean by Beverley?—you saw Captain Absolute before to-day, there he is: your husband that shall be.
Lyd. With all my soul, ma'am—when I refuse my Beverley—
Sir A. Oh! she's as mad as Bedlam!—or has this fellow been playing us a rogue's trick? Come here, sirrah, who the devil are you?
Capt. A. 'Faith, sir, I am not quite clear myself; but I'll endeavor to recollect.