_Alscrip._ Don't be afraid, my dear, enchanting diffident (zounds, what a flutter am I in!) don't be afraid--my disposition, to be sure, is too susceptible; but then it is likewise so dove-like, so tender, and so innocent. Come, play me that tune, and enchant my ear, as you have done my eye. _Miss Alton._ Sir, I wish to be excused, indeed it does not deserve your attention. _Alscrip._ Not deserve it! I had rather hear you, than all the signoritininies together.--These are the strings to which my senses shall dance. [_Sets the Harp._ _Miss Alton._ Sir, it is to avoid the affectation of refusing what is so little worth asking for. [_Takes the Harp and plays a Few Bars of a lively Air. ALSCRIP kisses her Fingers with rapture._ _Alscrip._ Oh! the sweet little twiddle-diddles! _Miss Alton._ For shame, sir, what do you mean? [_ALSCRIP gets hold of both her Hands and continues kissing her Fingers._ _Miss Alton._ [_Struggling._] Help! _Enter Miss ALSCRIP._ _Miss Als._ I wonder what my papa is doing all this time? [_A short Pause--MISS ALSCRIP surprised.--MISS ALTON confused.--ALSCRIP puts his Hand to his Eye._ _Alscrip._ Oh, child! I have got something in my eye, that makes me almost mad.--A little midge--believe.--'Gad, I caught hold of this young lady's hand in one of my twitches, and her nerves were as much in a flutter as if I had bit her. _Miss Als._ [_Significantly._] Yes, my dear papa, I perceive you have something in your eye, and I'll do my best to take it out immediately----Miss Alton, will you do me the favour to walk into the drawing room? _Miss Alton._ I hope, madam, you will permit me, at a proper opportunity, to give my explanation of what has passed? [_Retires._ _Miss Als._ There's no occasion--Let it rest among the catalogue of wonders, like the Glastonbury thorn, that blooms at Christmas.----To be serious, papa, though I carried off your behaviour as well as I could, I am really shocked at it--A man of your years, and of a profession where the opinion of the world is of such consequence-- _Alscrip._ My dear Molly, have not I quitted the practice of attorney, and turned fine gentleman, to laugh at the world's opinion; or, had I not, do you suppose the kiss of a pretty wench would hurt a lawyer? My dear Molly, if the fraternity had no other reflections to be afraid of! _Miss Als._ Oh! hideous, Molly indeed! you ought to have forgot I had a christened name long ago; am not I going to be a countess? If you did not stint my fortune, by squand'ring yours away upon dirty trulls, I might be called your grace. _Alscrip._ Spare your lectures, and you shall be called your highness, if you please. _Enter SERVANT._