_Clinch. sen._ Oh, lord, what shall I say now? Seen him? Yes, sir--no, sir.--I have, sir--I have not, sir. _Colonel S._ The fellow's mad. Answer me directly, sirrah, or I'll break your head. _Clinch. sen._ I know Sir Harry very well, sir; but as to the note, sir, I can't remember a word on't: truth is, I have a very bad memory. _Colonel S._ Oh, sir, I'll quicken your memory. [_Strikes him._ _Clinch. sen._ Zouns, sir, hold!--I did give him the note. _Colonel S._ And what answer? _Clinch. sen._ I mean, I did not give him the note. _Colonel S._ What, d'ye banter, rascal? [_Strikes him again._ _Clinch. sen._ Hold, sir, hold! He did send an answer. _Colonel S._ What was't, villain? _Clinch. sen._ Why, truly sir, I have forgot it: I told you that I had a very treacherous memory. _Colonel S._ I'll engage you shall remember me this month, rascal. [_Beats him, and exit._ _Enter_ LUREWELL _and_ PARLY. _Lady L._ Oh, my poor gentleman! and was it beaten? _Clinch. sen._ Yes, I have been beaten. But where's my clothes? my clothes? _Lady L._ What, you won't leave me so soon, my dear, will ye? _Clinch. sen._ Will ye!--If ever I peep into the colonel's tent again, may I be forced to run the gauntlet. But my clothes, madam. _Lady L._ I sent the porter down stairs with them: did not you meet him? _Clinch. sen._ Meet him? No, not I. _Parly._ No! He went out at the back door, and is run clear away, I'm afraid. _Clinch. sen._ Gone, say you, and with my clothes, my fine Jubilee clothes?--Oh, the rogue, the thief!--I'll have him hang'd for murder--But how shall I get home in this pickle? _Parly._ I'm afraid, sir, the colonel will be back presently, for he dines at home. _Clinch. sen._ Oh, then I must sneak off. Was ever such an unfortunate beau, To have his coat well thrash'd, and lose his coat also! [_Exit._ _Parly._ Methinks, madam, the injuries you have suffered by men must be very great, to raise such heavy resentments against the whole sex;--and, I think, madam, your anger should be only confined to the author of your wrongs. _Lady L._ The author! alas, I know him not. _Parly._ Not know him? Tis odd, madam, that a man should rob you of that same jewel, and you not know him. _Lady L._ Leave trifling: 'tis a subject that always sours my temper: but since, by thy faithful service, I have some reason to confide in your secresy, hear the strange relation.--Some twelve years ago, I lived at my father's house in Oxfordshire, blest with innocence, the ornamental, but weak guard of blooming beauty. Then it happened that three young gentlemen from the university coming into the country, and being benighted, and strangers, called at my father's: he was very glad of their company, and offered them the entertainment of his house. _Parly._ Which they accepted, no doubt. Oh, these strolling collegians are never abroad, but upon some mischief.