rn out a gentleman, though I suspect you to be one of the
brazier's company, I shall talk to you at Sir Simon's. [_Exit._

_Mary._ Is the gentleman gone, sir?

_Pereg._ Let him go, child; and be thankful that you have escaped
from a villain.

_Mary._ A villain, sir!

_Pereg._ The basest; for nothing can be baser than manly strength,
in the specious form of protection, injuring an unhappy woman. When
we should be props to the lily in the storm, 'tis damnable to spring
up like vigorous weeds, and twine about the drooping flower, till
we destroy it.

_Mary._ Then, where are friends to be found, sir? He seemed honest;
so do you; but, perhaps, you may be as bad.

_Pereg._ Do not trust me. I have brought you a friend, child, in
whom, Nature tells us, we ever should confide.

_Mary._ What, here, sir?

_Pereg._ Yes;--when he hurts you, he must wound himself;--and so
suspicious is the human heart become, from the treachery of society,
that it wants that security. I will send him to you. [_Exit._

_Mary._ Who can he mean? I know nobody but Mr. Rochdale, that, I
think, would come to me. For my poor dear father, when he knows all
my crime, will abandon me, as I deserve.

_Enter JOB THORNBERRY, at the Door PEREGRINE has gone out at._

_Job._ Mary! [_MARY shrieks and falls, her Father runs to her._] My
dear Mary!--Speak to me!

_Mary._ [_Recovering._] Don't look kindly on me, my dear father!
Leave me; I left you:--but I was almost mad.

_Job._ I'll never leave you, till I drop down dead by your side. How
could you run away from me, Mary? [_She shrieks._] Come, come, kiss
me, and we'll talk of that another time.

_Mary._ You hav'n't heard half the story, or I'm sure you'd never
forgive me.

_Job._ Never mind the story now, Mary;--'tis a true story that
you're my child, and that's enough for the present. I hear you have
met with a rascal. I hav'n't been told who, yet. Some folks don't
always forgive; braziers do. Kiss me again, and we'll talk on't by
and by. But, why would you run away, Mary?

_Mary._ I could'nt stay and be deceitful; and it has often cut me
to the heart, to see you show me that affection, which I knew I
didn't deserve.

_Job._ Ah! you jade! I ought to be angry; but I can't. Look
here--don't you remember this waistcoat? you worked it for me, you
know.

_Mary._ I know I did. [_Kissing him._

_Job._ I had a hard struggle to put it on, this morning;