Chanon Hugh. [To them.
Is Metaphor return'd yet?
All is turn'd
Here to confusion: We ha' lost our Plot;
I fear my Man is run away with the Money,
And Clay is found, in whom old Turfe is sure
To save his Stake.
What shall we do then, Justice?
The Bride was met i' the young Squire's hands.
And what's become of her?
None here can tell.
Was not my Mothers Man, Pol-martin, with you?
And a strange Gentlewoman in his company,
Of late here, Chanon?
Yes, and I -dispatch'd 'em.
Dispatch'd 'em! how do you mean?
Why, married 'em.
As they desir'd; but now.
Tub. And do you know
What you ha' done, Sir Hugh?
No harm, I hope.
You have ended all the Quarrel: Awdrey is
Married! to whom?
My Daughter Awdrey married,
And she not know of it!
Nor her Father, or Mother!
Whom hath she married?
Your Pol-martin, Madam.
A Groom was never dreamt of.
Is he a Man?
That he is, Turfe, and a Gentleman, I ha' made
Nay, an' he be a Gentleman, let her shift.
She was so brave, I knew her not, I swear;
And yet I married her by her own name.
But she was so disguis'd, so Lady-like,
I think she did not know her self the while!
I married 'em as a meer pair of strangers:
And they gave out themselves for such. Lad. I wish 'em
Much Joy, as they have given me hearts ease.
Then, Madam, I'll intreat you now remit
Your Jealousie of me; and please to take
All this good Company home with you to Supper:
We'll have a merry night of it, and laugh.
A right good motion, Squire; which I yield to: <!-- colon raised -->
And thank them to accept it. Neighbour Turfe,
I'll have you merry, and your Wife: And you,
Sir Hugh, be pardon'd this your happy Error.
By Justice Preamble, your Friend and Patron.
If the young Squire can pardon it, I do.