upon particular business.

_Sir Per._ Sir, I cannot speak till any body now--he must come another
time;--hand--stay--what--is he a gentleman?

_Sam._ He looks something like one, sir--a sort of a gentleman--but
he seems to be in a kind of a passion, for when I asked his name, he
answered hastily, it is no matter, friend,--go, tell your master there is
a gentleman here that _must_ speak to him directly.

_Sir Per._ Must! ha? vary peremptory indeed; pr'ythee, let's see him
for curiosity sake. [_Exit_ Sam.

_Enter Lady_ RODOLPHA.

_Lady Rod._ O! my Lady Macsycophant, I am come an humble advocate
for a weeping piece of female frailty, wha begs she may be permitted
to speak till your ladyship, before you finally reprobate her.

_Sir Per._ I beg your pardon, Lady Rodolpha, but it must not be:
see her she shall not.

_Lady Mac._ Nay, there can be no harm, my dear, in hearing what she has to
say for herself.

_Sir Per._ I tell you, it shall not be.

_Lady Mac._ Well, my dear, I have done.

_Enter_ SAM _and_ MELVILLE.

_Sam._ Sir, that is my master.

_Sir Per._ Weel, sir, what is your urgent business with me?

_Mel._ To shun disgrace, and punish baseness.

_Sir Per._ Punish baseness! what does the fellow mean? Wha are you, sir?

_Mel._ A man, sir--and one, whose fortune once bore as proud a sway as any
within this county's limits.

_Lord Lum._ You seem to be a soldier, sir.

_Mel._ I was, sir; and have the soldier's certificate to prove my
service--rags and scars. In my heart, for ten long years in India's
parching clime I bore my country's cause; and in noblest dangers sustained
it with my sword: at length ungrateful peace has laid me down where
welcome war first took me up,--in poverty, and the dread of cruel
creditors.--Paternal affection brought me to my native land, in quest of
an only child:--I found her, as I thought, amiable as parental fondness
could desire; but lust and foul seduction have snatched her from me,
and hither am I come, fraught with a father's anger, and a soldier's
honour, to seek the seducer and glut revenge.

_Lady Mac._ Pray, sir, who is your daughter?

_Mel._ I blush to own her--but--Constantia.

_Eger._ Is Constantia your daughter, sir?

_Mel._ She is; and was the only comfort that nature, fortune, or my own
extravagance had left me.

_Sir Per._ Guid traith, then, I fancy you will find but vary little
comfort fra her, for she is nai better than she shou'd be.-