JONATHAN. Yes. There was one youngster; they called him Mr. Joseph; he talked as sober and as pious as a minister; but, like some ministers that I know, he was a sly tike in his heart for all that: He was going to ask a young woman to spark it with him, and--the Lord have mercy on my soul!--she was another man's wife. JESSAMY. The Wabash! JENNY. And did you see any more folks? JONATHAN. Why, they came on as thick as mustard. For my part, I thought the house was haunted. There was a soldier fellow, who talked about his row de dow, dow, and courted a young woman; but, of all the cute folk I saw, I liked one little fellow-- JENNY. Aye! who was he? JONATHAN. Why, he had red hair, and a little round plump face like mine, only not altogether so handsome. His name was--Darby;--that was his baptizing name; his other name I forgot. Oh! it was Wig--Wag--Wag-all, Darby Wag-all,--pray, do you know him?--I should like to take a sling with him, or a drap of cyder with a pepper-pod in it, to make it warm and comfortable. JENNY. I can't say I have that pleasure. JONATHAN. I wish you did; he is a cute fellow. But there was one thing I didn't like in that Mr. Darby; and that was, he was afraid of some of them 'ere shooting irons, such as your troopers wear on training days. Now, I'm a true born Yankee American son of liberty, and I never was afraid of a gun yet in all my life. JENNY. Well, Mr. Jonathan, you were certainly at the play-house. JONATHAN. I at the play-house!--Why didn't I see the play then? JENNY. Why, the people you saw were players. JONATHAN. Mercy on my soul! did I see the wicked players?--Mayhap that 'ere Darby that I liked so was the old serpent himself, and had his cloven foot in his pocket. Why, I vow, now I come to think on't, the candles seemed to burn blue, and I am sure where I sat it smelt tarnally of brimstone. JESSAMY. Well, Mr. Jonathan, from your account, which I confess is very accurate, you must have been at the play-house. JONATHAN. Why, I vow, I began to smell a rat. When I came away, I went to the man for my money again; you want your money? says he; yes, says I; for what? says he; why, says I, no man shall jocky me out of my money; I paid my money to see sights, and the dogs a bit of a sight have I seen, unless you call listening to people's private business a sight. Why, says he, it is the School for Scandalization.--The School for Scandalization!--Oh! ho! no wonder you New-York folks are so cute at it, when you go to school to learn it; and so I jogged off. JESSAMY. My dear Jenny, my master's business drags me from you; would to heaven I knew no other servitude than to your charms. JONATHAN. Well, but don't go; you won't leave me so.-- JESSAMY. Excuse me.--Remember the cash. [_Aside to him, and--Exit._]