_Jenny._ Well, I say it, that will be delicious! And then, mayhap, to have a fine gentleman with a star and what-d'ye-call-um ribbon, lead me to my chair, with his hat under his arm all the way! Hold up, says the chairman, and so, says I, my Lord, your humble servant. I suppose, Madam, says he, we shall see you at my Lady _Quadrille_'s! Ay, ay, to be sure, my Lord, says I----So in swops me, with my hoop stuff'd up to my forehead! and away they trot, swing! swang! with my tassels dangling, and my flambeaux blazing, and----Oh! it's a charming thing to be a woman of quality! Count _Bas._ Well, I see that plainly, my dear, there's ne'er a Dutchess of 'em all will become an equipage like you. _Jenny._ Well, well, do you find equipage, and I'll find airs, I warrant you. [_Sings._ Squ. _Rich._ Troth! I think this masquerading's the merriest game that ever I saw in my life! Thof, in my mind, and there were but a little wrestling, or cudgel playing naw, it would help it hugely. But what a-rope makes the parson stay so? Count _Bas._ Oh! here he comes, I believe. _Enter ~Myrtilla~ with a constable._ _Const._ Well, Madam, pray which is the party that wants a spice of my office here? _Myr._ That's the gentleman. [_Pointing to the Count._ Count _Bas._ Hey-day! what in masquerade, doctor? _Const._ Doctor! Sir, I believe you have mistaken your man: but if you are called Count _Basset_, I have a _billet-doux_ in my hand for you, that will set you right presently. Count _Bas._ What the devil's the meaning of all this? _Const._ Only my Lord Chief Justice's warrant against you for forgery, Sir. Count _Bas._ Blood and thunder! _Const._ And so, Sir, if you please to pull off your fool's frock there, I'll wait upon you to the next Justice of peace immediately. _Jenny._ O dear me! what's the matter? [_Trembling._ Count _Bas._ O! nothing, only a masquerading frolic, my dear. Squ. _Rich._ Oh oh! is that all? Sir _Fran._ No, Sirrah! that is not all. [_Sir ~Francis~ coming softly behind the Squire, knocks him down with his cane._ _Enter ~Manly~._ Squ. _Rich._ O lawd! O lawd! he has beaten my brains out! _Man._ Hold, hold, Sir _Francis_, have a little mercy upon my poor godson, pray, Sir. Sir _Fran._ Waunds, cousin, I han't patience. Count _Bas._ _Manly_! nay, then I'm blown to the devil. [_Aside._ Squ. _Rich._ O my head! my head! _Enter Lady ~Wronghead~._ Lady _Wrong._ What's the matter here, gentlemen? for heav'ns sake! what, are you murd'ring my children? _Con._ No, no, Madam! no murder! only a little suspicion of felony, that's all.