_Pereg._ Hold, sir! When you betrayed the poor, wronged, Mary, how came you to forget, that every father's repose may be broken for ever by his child's conduct? _Frank._ By my honour! by my soul! it was my intention to have placed her far, far above the reach of want; but you, my hollow monitor, are frustrating that intention. You, who come here to preach virtue, are tempting her to be a confirmed votary of vice, whom I in penitence would rescue, as the victim of unguarded sensibility. _Pereg._ Are you, then, jealous of me? _Frank._ Jealous! _Pereg._ Aye: if so, I can give you ease. Return with me, to the injured innocent on the heath: marry her, and I will give her away. _Frank._ Marry her! I am bound in honour to another. _Pereg._ Modern honour is a coercive argument; but when you have seduced virtue, whose injuries you will not solidly repair, you must be slightly bound in old-fashion'd honesty. _Frank._ I------I know not what to say to you. Your manner almost awes me; and there is a mystery in---- _Pereg._ I am mysterious, sir. I may have other business, perhaps, with your father; and, I will tell you, the very fate of your family may hang on my conference with him. Come, come, Mr. Rochdale, bring me to Sir Simon. _Frank._ My father cannot be seen yet. Will you, for a short time, remain in my apartment? _Pereg._ Willingly;--and depend on this, sir--I have seen enough of the world's weakness, to forgive the casual faults of youthful indiscretion;--but I have a detestation for systematic vice; and though, as a general censor, my lash may be feeble, circumstances have put a scourge in my hand, which may fall heavily on this family, should any of its branches force me to wield it.--I attend you. [_Exeunt._ * * * * * ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I. _A Hall in the Manor-house._ _Voices wrangling without._ _Job._ I will see Sir Simon. _Simon._ You can't see Sir Simon, &c. &c. &c. _Enter JOB THORNBERRY, MARY, and SIMON._ _Job._ Don't tell me;--I come upon justice business. _Simon._ Sir Simon be a gentleman justice. _Job._ If the justice allows all his servants to be as saucy as you, I can't say much for the gentleman. _Simon._ But these ben't his hours. _Job._ Hours for justice! I thought one of the blessings of an Englishman, was to find justice at any time. _Mary._ Pray don't be so---- _Job._ Hold your tongue, child. What _are_ his hours? _Simon._ Why, from twelve to two. _Job._ Two hours out of four and twenty! I hope all that belong to law, are a little quicker than his worship; if not, when a case wants immediate remedy, it's just eleven to one against us. Don't you know me? _Simon._ Na. _Job._ I'm sure I have seen you in Penzance. _Simon._ My wife has got a chandler's shop there. _Job._ Haven't you heard we've a fire engine in the church? _Simon._ What o' that?