LOADSTONE

I, 'tis his fault, she's not bestowed, My brother Interests. He keeps off all her Suitors, keeps the portion, Still in his hands: and will not partly withal, On any terms. No petty sum. When she is married. Is he gone in? I am beholden to him: he brings ever Variety of good persons to my table, And I must thank him, though my brother Interest Dislike of it a little. He's a true friend! and ther's Mr. Practice, The fine young man of Law comes to the house: My brother brooks him not, because he thinks He is by me assigned for my Niece: He will not hear of it. So Mr. Compass says. It is between The Lawyer, and the Courtier, which shall have her. And so my Gossip Polish assures me. Here she comes! good Polish Welcome in troth! How dost thou gentle Polish? We mean, they shall write more, ere it be long. She is not well. Her Doctor says for I know not That she could write so early, my good Gossip. But I do know she was so long your care, Till she was twelve year old; that I called for her, And took her home, for which I thank you Polish, And am beholden to you. Yes, so't be reason, Let her. Dear Gossip, Be you gone, at this time, too, and vouchsafe To see your charge, my Niece. A good woman! But when she is impertinent, grows earnest, A little troublesome, and out of season: Her love, and zeal transport her. The nobleness of his profession makes His welcome perfect: though your course description Would seem to fully it. You praise him brother, as you had hope to fell him. Aware your true jests, Mr. Compass; They will not relish. We'll think on't afore dinner. She's my tendering Gossip, loves my Niece. As Soon as we can: let her bear up to day, Laugh, and keep company, at Gleek, or Crimpe. Needle, get you the Coach Ready, against to morrow morning. I'll down with her my self, and thank the Doctor. I have done't. To tell you true, (sweet Gossip;) here is none But Master Doctor, he shall be of the counsel: The man I have designed her to, indeed, Is Master Practice: he's a neat young man, Forward, and growing up, in a profession! Like to be some body, if the Hall stand! And Pleading hold! A prime young Lawyers wife, Is a right happy fortune. For that, I must consult mine own Ambition, My zealous Gossip. have you talked with him? And made the overture? What will you move to him? Stint, found woman. Know you the party Mr. Practice means? I fear he fables; Parson do you know Where Mr. Practice is engaged? He is not mad. Oh it's true, your Mrs! I find where your shoe wrings you, Mr. Compass: But, you'll look to him there. Will Mr. Practice be of Council against us? Good Gossip look to her. Was ever such a Guest brought to my table? Would he had never come in them, I may wish. He has discredited my house, and board, With his rude swaggering manners, and endangered My Nieces health (by drawing of his weapon) God knows how far; for Mr. Doctor does not. How now? how does she? Help me to my Chamber, Nurse Keep: Would I could see the day no more, But night hung over me, Like some dark cloud; That, buried with this lose of my good name, I, and my house might perish, thus forgotten— I did that too late; Which brought on this calamity upon me, With all the infamy I hear; your Soldier, That swaggering Guest. What's she that I call Niece then? To what purpose? I bid God give you joy, if this be true. Why, that you see, is manifestly false, He has married the other; our true Niece he says: He would not woo them both: he is not such A Stallion, to leap all. Again, no Child Appears, that I can find with all my search, And strictest way of Inquiry, I have made Through all my family. A fit of the Mother, The women say she had, which the Midwife Our, With burning bones and feathers: Here's the Doctor. Enter Doctor. Is Needle sick? You must give losers' Their leave to speak, good Doctor. That would make all suspected, Sir, a fresh. Come we will find her, if she be in the house. I'll sweep all corners, Gossip, to spring this. If't be above ground, I will have her cried, By the Common-crier, through all the Ward, But I will find her. Where? where? In the name Lady. Of fate, or folly how came you in the Bucket? I cannot stop The Laws, or hinder Justice. I can be Your Bail, if't may betaken, Well, we are all now reconciled to truth. There rests yet a Gratuity from me, To be conferred upon this Gentleman; Who (as my Nephew Compass says) was cause, First of the offence, but since of all the amends, The Quarrel caused the affright; that fright brought on The travel, which made peace; the peace drew on This new discovery, which endeth all In reconcilement.