it?--[_Calmly._]--By placing before my
imagination a picture of more honourable lineaments.--I make her my
wife.--Ah! then she would smile on me--there's rapture in the
thought;--instead of vice producing decay, I behold virtue emblazoning
beauty; instead of Susan on the bed of death, I behold her giving to my
hopes a dear pledge of our mutual love. She places it in my arms--down
her father's honest face runs a tear--but 'tis the tear of joy. Oh, this
will be luxury! paradise!--Come, Susan!--come, my love, my soul--my
_wife_.

_Enter_ SUSAN--_she at first hesitates--on hearing the word_ wife, _she
springs into his arms._

_Susan._ Is it possible?

_Handy, jun._ Yes, those charms have conquered.

_Susan._ Oh! no; do not so disgrace the victory you have gained--'tis
your own virtue that has triumphed.

_Handy, jun._ My Susan! how true it is that fools alone are vicious. But
let us fly to my father, and obtain his consent. On recollection, that
may not be quite so easy. His arrangements with Sir Philip Blandford
are--are--not mine, so there's an end of that. And Sir Philip, by
misfortune, knows how to appreciate happiness. Then poor Miss
Blandford--upon my soul I feel for her.

_Susan._ [_Ironically._] Come, don't make yourself miserable. If my
suspicions be true, she'll not break her heart for your loss.

_Handy, jun._ Nay, don't say so; she will be unhappy.

_Ash._ [_Without._] There he is. Dame, shall I shoot at un?

_Dame._ No.

_Susan._ My father's voice.

_Ash._ Then I'll leather un wi' my stick.

_Enter_ ASHFIELD _and_ DAME.

_Ash._ What do thee do here with my Sue, eh?

_Handy, jun._ With your Sue!--she's mine--mine by a husband's right.

_Ash._ Husband! what, thee Sue's husband?

_Handy, jun._ I soon shall be.

_Ash._ But how tho'?--What! faith and troth?--What! like as I married
Dame?

_Handy, jun._ Yes.

_Ash._ What! axed three times!

_Handy, jun._ Yes; and from this moment I'll maintain, that the real
temple of love is a parish church--Cupid is a chubby curate--his torch
is the sexton's lantern--and the according paean of the spheres is the
profound nasal thorough bass of the clerk's Amen.

_Ash._ Huzza! only to think now--my blessing go with you, my children!

_Dame._ And mine.

_Ash._ And Heaven's blessing too. Ecod, I believe now, as thy feyther
zays, thee canst do every thing!

_Handy, jun._ No; for there is one thing I cannot do--injure the
innocence of woman.

_Ash._ Dr