_Everg._ That's right--that's right,--Henry--Be but thou resigned and
virtuous, and He, who clothes the lily of the field, will be a parent to
thee. [_Exeunt._

ACT THE SECOND.

SCENE I.

_A Lodge belonging to the Castle._

_Dame Ashfield discovered making lace._

_Enter_ HANDY, _jun._

_Handy, jun._ A singular situation this my old dad has placed me in;
brought me here to marry a woman of fashion and beauty, while I have
been professing, and I've a notion feeling, the most ardent love for the
pretty Susan Ashfield--Propriety says, take Miss Blandford--Love says,
take Susan--Fashion says, take both--but would Susan consent to such an
arrangement?--and if she refused, would I consent to part with her?--Oh,
time enough to put that question, when the previous one is disposed
of--[_Seeing_ DAME.] How do you do? How do you do?--Making lace, I
perceive--Is it a common employment, here?

_Dame._ Oh, no, sir? nobody can make it in these parts but myself!--Mrs.
Grundy, indeed, pretends--but, poor woman! she knows no more of it than
you do.

_Handy, jun._ Than I do! that's vastly well;--My dear madam, I passed
two months at Mechlin for the express purpose.

_Dame._ Indeed!

_Handy, jun._ You don't do it right--now I can do it much better than
that. Give me leave, and I'll shew you the true Mechlin method [_Turns
the cushion round, kneels down, and begins working._] First you see,
so--then, so--

_Enter_ SIR ABEL, _and_ MISS BLANDFORD.

_Sir Abel._ I vow, Miss Blandford, fair as I ever thought you, the air
of your native land has given additional lustre to your
charms!--[_Aside._] If my wife looked so--Ah! but where can Bob be?--You
must know, miss, my son is a very clever fellow! you won't find him
wasting his time in boyish frivolity!--no; you will find him--
[_Sees him._

_Miss B._ Is that your son, sir?

_Sir Abel._ [_Abashed._] Yes, that's Bob!

_Miss B._ Pray, sir, is he making lace, or is he making love?

_Sir Abel._ Curse me if I can tell. [_Hits him with his stick._] Get up,
you dog! don't you see Miss Blandford?

_Handy, jun._ [_Starting up._] Zounds! how unlucky! Ma'am, your most
obedient servant. [_Endeavours to hide the work._] Curse the cushion!
[_Throws it off._

_Dame._ Oh! he has spoiled my lace!

_Handy, jun._