_Enter SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY, with SERVANTS, armed with guns, clubs, pitchforks, &c_. LORY. Oh! [_Runs behind his master_.] O Lord! O Lord! Lord! we are both dead men! TOM FASHION. 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 horse-pond! SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. Who is it here hath any business with me? TOM FASHION. Sir, ’tis I, if your name be Sir Tunbelly Clumsy. SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. 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. TOM FASHION. Sir, you have no cause that I know of. SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. 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. TOM FASHION. Sir, I hope you’ll find this letter an authentic passport. [_Gives him a letter_.] SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. 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? TOM FASHION. 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 TUNBELLY CLUMSY. 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. TOM FASHION. Sir, I am not a stranger to them, though I am to her; common fame has done her justice. SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. 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. TOM FASHION. Sir, I wait upon you. [_Exeunt_.] SCENE IV.—_A Room in_ SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY’S _House_. MISS HOYDEN _discovered alone_.