_Tru._ 'Twas fondness, sir, and tender duty to you, who have been so worthy and so just a master to me, made me stay near you; they left me so, and there I found you wake from your lethargic slumber; on which I will assume an authority to beseech you, sir, to make just use of your revived life, in seeing who are your true friends, and knowing her who has so wrought upon your noble nature as to make it act against itself in disinheriting your brave son. _Ld. B._ Sure 'tis impossible she should be such a creature as you tell me----My mind reflects upon ten thousand endearments that plead unanswerably for her. Her chaste reluctant love, her easy observance of all my wayward humours, to which she would accommodate herself with so much ease, I could scarce observe it was a virtue in her; she hid her very patience. _Tru._ It was all art, sir, or indifference to you, for what I say is downright matter of fact. _Ld. B._ Why didst thou ever tell me it? or why not in my lifetime, for I must call it so, nor can I date a minute mine, after her being false; all past that moment is death and darkness: Why didst thou not tell me then, I say? _Tru._ Because you were too much in love with her to be informed; nor did I ever know a man that touched on conjugal affairs could ever reconcile the jarring humours but in a common hatred of the intermeddler. But on this most extraordinary occasion, which seems pointed out by Heaven itself to disengage you from your cruelty and banishment of an innocent child, I must, I will conjure you to be concealed, and but contain yourself, in hearing one discourse with that cursed instrument of all her secrets, that Tattleaid, and you'll see what I tell you; you'll call me then your guardian and good genius. _Ld. B._ Well, you shall govern me, but would I had died in earnest ere I'd known it; my head swims, as it did when I fell into my fit, at the thoughts of it----How dizzy a place is this world you live in! All human life's a mere vertigo! _Tru._ Ay, ay, my lord, fine reflections--fine reflections,--but that does no business. Thus, sir, we'll stand concealed, and hear, I doubt not, a much sincerer dialogue than usual between vicious persons; for a late accident has given a little jealousy, which makes 'em over-act their love and confidence in each other. [_They retire._ _Enter_ WIDOW _and_ TATTLEAID _meeting, and running to each other._ _Wid._ O, Tattleaid! His and our hour is come! _Tat._ I always said, by his churchyard cough, you'd bury him, but still you were impatient----