Sir Per. Tarry, I command you; and, I command you likewise not to stir till you have given me an answer, a definitive answer: Will you marry the lady, or will you not?
Eger. Since you command me, sir, know then, that I can not, will not marry her. [Exit.
Sir Per. Oh! the villain has shot me thro’ the head! he has cut my vitals! I shall run distracted;—the fellow destroys aw my measures—aw my schemes:—there never was sic a bargain as I have made with this foolish lord,—possession of his whole estate, with three boroughs upon it—six members—Why, what an acquisition! what consequence! what dignity! what weight till the house of Macsycophant! O! damn the fellow! three boroughs, only for sending down six broomsticks.—O! miserable! miserable! ruined! undone! For these five and twanty years, ever since this fellow came intill the world, have I been secretly preparing him for ministerial dignity,—and with the fellow’s eloquence, abilities, popularity, these boroughs, and proper connections, he might certainly, in a little time, have done the deed; and sure never were times so favorable, every thing conspires, for aw the auld political post-horses are broken-winded and foundered, and cannot get on; and as till the rising generation, the vanity of surpassing one another in what they foolishly call taste and elegance, binds them hand and foot in the chains of luxury, which will always set them up till the best bidder; so that if they can but get wherewithal to supply their dissipation, a minister may convert the political morals of aw sic voluptuaries intill a vote that would sell the nation till Prester John, and their boasted liberties till the great Mogul;—and this opportunity I shall lose by my son’s marrying a vartuous beggar for love:—O! confound her vartue! it will drive me distracted. [Exit.
ACT V. SCENE I.
Enter Sir PERTINAX, and BETTY HINT.
Sir Per. Come this way, Betty—come this way:—you are a guid girl, and I will reward you for this discovery.—O the villain! offer her marriage!
Bet. It is true, indeed, sir;—I wou’d not tell your honour a lie for the world: but in troth it lay upon my conscience, and I thought it my duty to tell your worship.
Sir Per. You are right—you are right;—it was your duty to tell me, and I’ll reward you for it. But you say Maister Sidney is in love with her too.—Pray how came you by that intelligence?
Bet. O! sir, I know when folks are in love, let them strive to hide it as much as they will.—I know it by Mr. Sidney’s eyes, when I see him stealing a sly side-look at her,—by his trembling,—his breathing short,—his sighing when they are reading together. Besides, sir, he has made love-verses upon her in praise of her virtue, and her playing upon the music.—Ay! and I suspect: another thing, sir,—she has a sweetheart, if not a husband, not far from hence.