Volume Ii Part 61 (1/2)

[_Ex. Sir_ Char, _and Sir_ Anth.

L. _Gal_. See if my Coach be ready.

[_Ex_. CIos.

_Wild_. Whether are you janting now?

L. _Gal_. Where you dare not wait on me, to your Uncle's to Supper.

_Wild_. That Uncle of mine pimps for all the Sparks of his Party; There they all meet and bargain without Scandal: Fops of all sorts and sizes you may chuse, Whig-land offers not such another Market.

_Enter_ Closet.

_Clos_. Madam, here's Sir _Timothy Treat-all_ come to wait on your Ladys.h.i.+p to Supper.

_Wild_. My Uncle! Oh, d.a.m.n him, he was born to be my Plague: not-- Disinheriting me had not been so great a Disappointment; and if he sees me here, I ruin all the Plots I've laid for him. Ha, he's here.

_Enter Sir_ Tim.

Sir _Tim_. How, my Nephew Thomas here!

_Wild_. Madam, I find you can be cruel too, Knowing my Uncle has abandon'd me.

Sir _Tim_. How now, Sir, what's your Business here?

_Wild_. I came to beg a Favour of my Lady _Galliard_, Sir, knowing her Power and Quality here in the City.

Sir _Tim_. How a Favour of my Lady _Galliard_! The Rogue said indeed he would cuckold me. [_Aside_.] Why, Sir, I thought you had been taken up with your rich Heiress?

_Wild_. That was my Business now, Sir: Having in my possession the Daughter and Heir of Sir _Nicholas Gett-all_, I would have made use of the Authority of my Lady _Galliard's_ House to have secur'd her, till I got things in order for our Marriage; but my Lady, to put me off, cries I have an Uncle.

L. _Gal_. A well contrived Lye. [_Aside_.

Sir _Tim_. Well, I have heard of your good Fortune; and however a Reprobate thou hast been, I'll not shew my self so undutiful an Uncle, as not to give the Gentlewoman a little House-room: I heard indeed she was gone a week ago, And, Sir, my House is at your Service.

_Wild_. I humbly thank you, Sir. Madam, your Servant. A pox upon him and his a.s.sociation.

[_Goes out_.

Sir _Tim_. Come, Madam, my Coach waits below.

[_Exit_.

ACT III.

SCENE I. _A Room_.

_Enter Sir_ Timothy Treat-all, _and_ Jervice.

Sir _Tim_. Here, take my Sword, _Jervice_. What have you inquir'd, as I directed you, concerning the rich Heiress, Sir _Nicholas Get-all's_ Daughter?

_Jer_. Alas, Sir, inquir'd! why, 'tis all the City-News that she's run away with one of the maddest Tories about Town.