beautiful; yet I never had no more notion of marriage! Sir Harry. Till you found fhe was not to be had without it. My Lady, the young rogue, with that fimple face, is the wickedeft dog among'ft the girls. Ha, ha, ha! Bob. Me! Oh Ma'am, as I hope for Sir Harry. Hold your tongue, you're right to marry her. Galen. My fon marry a bakers daughter more of my brother's villainy, I'll poison the rogue if there's a bottle in my fhop. Faggot. Crack your, bottles; I'd have you to know, the baker's an honeft man; tho' for all that fpark's grinning, Polly's not a baker's daughter; fpeak Monfieur brother-in-law.Speak you wild devil. (ta Polly) Tell them, an't you heiress to Captain Gunnell-with ten thoufand pound in your pocket. Galen. Ten thousand-why Bob! 1 Sir Harry. That bam won't do on me, the girl herfelf has told me all; fo fay it was after that young fellow you and the came hither now, and I'll portion your Polly prettily. Lady D. A motley groupe you've brought about you, Sir Harry. 窿 Sir H. Ah, ah, ah! a queer collection faith, ah, ah, ah! (looking round) But you know my Lady this Coeffeufe here was formerly my valet, and the poor faithful fcoundrel begs the honor to have his nieces marriage to this young man, folemniz'd with ours. Polly. Here's a chain-shot! rak'd and boarded without a declaration of war. Bob. Bob D. No, but here's a kiís of peace. (kiffes ber) Eh, eh, eh! Faggot. Yes, yes, I fee there's no holding her, fhe'll be off with fomebody, and I fha'n't get a penny by it, but who is this ftick of hickery? (to Bob) Bob. I'm my father's fon. Galen. Your hand, boy; ah! fly in this love affair; but if he has this fortune, what fay you ? Bob. Hang fortune, iny toaft is, Polly without a petticoat. Polly. I fee, Sir Harry, from his fear of lofing his wife there, will provide me with a husband. I've had a proof that the lad has a good heart, fo I had beft take the tide, and at once fail out of my guardian's power. (afide) Faggot. Speak out girl, will you have this Bob? Polly. Why he seems a little biscuit bread like myfelf; but as he had the generofity to offer his fervice when he thought me in diftrefs, he's worthy and welcome to partake of my profperity. Faggot. There, you fee fhe's not only got the failor's language, but their thoughtless, noble, difinterefted generofity-the girl has fet me fuch a generous example, that I'll give my free confent, if you'll give me back two hundred of her portion. (to Galen) Galen. Your hand; I'll bleed, bolus, and blifter you till the very hour of your death. Bob. Oh, you generous old ones! Sir Harry. What has the girl humm'd me? are you then really her guardian, and the the fortune that 1 VOL. IV. Ꮓ Ꮓ Faggot i Faggot. Fortune, or no fortune, devil a penny of it you touch; this lad deferves her. Bob. Yes, I deferve her, fo hold your prate. (to Sir Harry) Enter FIDGET. Fidget. Ch, what you're here yet gentlemen with your wigs on you?-My Lady here's John the Coachman, fays he'll foon drive 'em out. Sir Harry. No, Mrs. Fidget, let John the coachman with your leave my Lady, drive us to church. Galen. And we'll follow you merrily in a hack hey younkers? Bob. Mafter, you give up my indentures to Polly; and bound to fo fweet a mistress, I fhall with never to be out of my time. THE END. |
