_O'Ded._ Somehow, when I see a poor girl with her pretty little eyes brim full of tears, which I think have no business to be there, I'm more apt to be busy in wiping them away, than in saying cruel things that will make them flow faster; you had better tell her all this yourself, my lord. _Lord A._ That, sir, is impossible. If _you_ decline it, I shall find some one less delicate. _O'Ded._ There's reason in that, and if you send another to her, he may not be quite so delicate, as you say: so I'll even undertake it myself. _Lord A._ The poor girl disposed of, if the old fool, her father, will be thus clamorous, we must not be nice as to the means of silencing him--money, I suppose, is his object. _O'Ded._ May be not--If a rich man by accident disables a poor man from working, money may make him easy; but when his feelings are deliberately tortured, devil fly away with the mercenary miser, if he will take shining dirt as a compensation for cruelty. _Lord A._ I can dispense with moral reflections--It may serve your purpose elsewhere, but to me, who know your practice, your preaching is ridiculous--What is it you propose? If the fellow wont be satisfied by money he must be removed. _O'Ded._ Faith, 'tis a new way, sure enough, to make reparation to the feelings of a father, after having seduced daughter under the plea of a false marriage, performed by a sham priest, and a forged licence! _Fanny_ (_behind._) Oh, heaven! let me pass--I must and will see him (_enters._) Oh, my lord! my lord! my husband! (_she falls at his feet, he raises her_) Surely my ears deceived me--you cannot, cannot mean it! a false marriage! a pretended priest! What is to become of me! In mercy kill me! Let me not live to see my broken-hearted father expire with grief and shame, or live to curse me! Spare me but this, my lord, and I will love, forgive, will pray for you-- _Lord A._ This is a plot against me--You placed her there on purpose to surprise me in the moment of unguarded weakness. _O'Ded._ By St. Patrick, how she came there is a most mysterious mystery to Cornelius O'Dedimus, attorney at law. _Lord A._ Fanny, I entreat you, leave me. _Fanny._ Oh, do not send me from you! Can you, my lord, abandon thus to shame and wretchedness the poor deluded victim of your treachery! _Lord A._ Ha! leave me, I charge you! _Fanny._ No, no, my dearest lord! I cannot leave you! Whither shall I fly, if these arms deny me refuge! Am I not yours? What if these wicked men refuse me justice! There is another witness who will rise in dreadful evidence against you! 'Tis Heaven itself! 'tis there your vows were heard! 'tis there where Truth resides, your vows are registered! then oh! reflect before you plunge too deep in guilt for repentance and retreat! reflect that we are married! _Lord A._ I cannot speak at present; leave me, and we will meet again.