Lory. Oh! [Runs behind his master.] O Lord! O Lord! Lord! we are both dead men!

Fash. Fool! thy fear will ruin us.

[Aside to Lory.

Lory. My fear, sir? ’sdeath, sir, I fear nothing.—[Aside.] Would I were well up to the chin in a horsepond!

Sir Tun. Who is it here hath any business with me?

Fash. Sir, ’tis I, if your name be Sir Tunbelly Clumsy.

Sir Tun. Sir, my name is Sir Tunbelly Clumsy, whether you have any business with me or not.—So you see I am not ashamed of my name, nor my face either.

Fash. Sir, you have no cause that I know of.

Sir Tun. Sir, if you have no cause either, I desire to know who you are; for, till I know your name, I shan’t ask you to come into my house: and when I do know your name, ’tis six to four I don’t ask you then.

Fash. Sir, I hope you’ll find this letter an authentic passport.

[Gives him a letter.

Sir Tun. Cod’s my life, from Mrs. Coupler!—I ask your lordship’s pardon ten thousand times.—[To a Servant] Here, run in a doors quickly; get a Scotch coal fire in the parlour, set all the Turkey work chairs in their places, get the brass candlesticks out, and be sure stick the socket full of laurel—run!—[Turns to Tom Fashion.]—My lord I ask your lordship’s pardon.—[To Servant.] And, do you hear, run away to nurse; bid her let Miss Hoyden loose again.—[Exit Servant] I hope your honour will excuse the disorder of my family. We are not used to receive men of your lordship’s great quality every day. Pray, where are your coaches and servants, my lord?

Fash. Sir, that I might give you and your daughter a proof how impatient I am to be nearer akin to you, I left my equipage to follow me, and came away post with only one servant.

Sir Tun. Your lordship does me too much honour—it was exposing your person to too much fatigue and danger, I protest it was: but my daughter shall endeavour to make you what amends she can: and, though I say it that should not say it, Hoyden has charms.

Fash. Sir, I am not a stranger to them, though I am to her; common fame has done her justice.

Sir Tun. My Lord, I am common fame’s very grateful, humble servant. My lord, my girl’s young—Hoyden is young, my lord: but this I must say for her, what she wants in art she has in breeding; and what’s wanting in her age, is made good in her constitution.—So pray, my lord, walk in; pray, my lord, walk in.

Fash. Sir, I wait upon you.

[Exeunt.

Scene IV.—A Room in Sir Tunbelly Clumsy’s House.

Miss Hoyden discovered alone.

Miss Hoyd. Sure, nobody was ever used as I am! I know well enough what other girls do, for all they think to make a fool o’ me. It’s well I have a husband a-coming, or ecod I’d marry the baker, I would so. Nobody can knock at the gate, but presently I must be locked up; and here’s the young greyhound can run loose about the house all the day long, so she can.—’Tis very well!