MISS HOYDEN. [_Going up to_ LORD FOPPINGTON.] Is this he that would have run—Fough, how he stinks of sweets!—Pray, father, let him be dragged through the horse-pond. LORD FOPPINGTON. This must be my wife, by her natural inclination to her husband. [_Aside._] MISS HOYDEN. Pray, father, what do you intend to do with him—hang him? SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. That, at least, child. NURSE. Ay, and it’s e’en too good for him too. LORD FOPPINGTON. Madame la gouvernante, I presume: hitherto this appears to me to be one of the most extraordinary families that ever man of quality matched into. [_Aside._] SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. What’s become of my lord, daughter? MISS HOYDEN. He’s just coming, sir. LORD FOPPINGTON. My lord! what does he mean by that, now? [_Aside._] _Re-enter_ TOM FASHION _and_ LORY. Stap my vitals, Tam, now the dream’s out! [_Runs._] TOM FASHION. Is this the fellow, sir, that designed to trick me of your daughter? SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. This is he, my lord. How do you like him? Is not he a pretty fellow to get a fortune? TOM FASHION. I find by his dress he thought your daughter might be taken with a beau. MISS HOYDEN. Oh, gemini! is this a beau? let me see him again. [_Surveys him_.] Ha! I find a beau is no such ugly thing, neither. TOM FASHION. [_Aside_.] Egad, she’ll be in love with him presently—I’ll e’en have him sent away to jail.—[_To_ LORD FOPPINGTON.] Sir, though your undertaking shows you a person of no extraordinary modesty, I suppose you ha’n’t confidence enough to expect much favour from me? LORD FOPPINGTON. Strike me dumb, Tam, thou art a very impudent fellow. NURSE. Look, if the varlet has not the effrontery to call his lordship plain Thomas! LORD FOPPINGTON. My Lord Foppington, shall I beg one word with your lordship? NURSE. Ho, ho! it’s my lord with him now! See how afflictions will humble folks. MISS HOYDEN. Pray, my lord—[_To_ FASHION]—don’t let him whisper too close, lest he bite your ear off. LORD FOPPINGTON. I am not altogether so hungry as your ladyship is pleased to imagine.—[_Aside to_ TOM FASHION.] Look you, Tam, I am sensible I have not been so kind to you as I ought, but I hope you’ll forgive what’s past, and accept of the five thousand pounds I offer—thou mayst live in extreme splendour with it, stap my vitals! TOM FASHION. It’s a much easier matter to prevent a disease than to cure it. A quarter of that sum would have secured your mistress, twice as much cannot redeem her. [_Aside to_ LORD FOPPINGTON.] SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. Well, what says he? TOM FASHION. Only the rascal offered me a bribe to let him go. SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. Ay, he shall go, with a plague to him!—lead on, constable. _Enter_ SERVANT. SERVANT. Sir, here is Muster Loveless, and Muster Colonel Townly, and some ladies to wait on you. [_To_ TOM FASHION.] LORY. [_Aside to_ TOM FASHION.] So, sir, what will you do now?