That's all very true.--But if the voters are under
petticoat government, he has a mighty good chance of his election.

_Enter MARY._

_Mary._ Did you call, my dear father?

_Job._ Yes, I did call. [_Passionately._

_Dennis._ Don't you frighten that poor young crature!

_Mary._ Oh, dear! what has happened?--You are angry; very angry. I
hope it isn't with me!--if it is, I have no reason to complain.

_Job._ [_Softened, and folding her in his Arms._] My poor, dear
child! I forgive you twenty times more, now, than I did before.

_Mary._ Do you, my dear father?

_Job._ Yes; for there's twenty times more excuse for you, when rank
and education have helped a scoundrel to dazzle you. Come!
[_Taking her Hand._

_Mary._ Come! where?

_Job._ [_Impatiently._] To the Manor-house with me, directly.

_Mary._ To the Manor-house! Oh, my dear father, think of what you
are doing! think of me!

_Job._ Of you!--I think of nothing else. I'll see you righted. Don't
be terrified, child--damn it, you know I doat on you: but we are all
equals in the eye of the law; and rot me, if I won't make a
baronet's son shake in his shoes, for betraying a brazier's
daughter. Come, love, come! _Exeunt JOB and MARY._

_Dennis._ There'll be a big boderation at the Manor-house! My
customers are all gone, that I was to entertain:--nobody's left but
my lambkin, who don't entertain me: Sir Simon's butler gives good
Madeira:--so, I'm off, after the rest; and the Red Cow and mother
Brulgruddery may take care of one another. [_Exit._

SCENE II.

_Enter FRANK ROCHDALE._

_Frank._ Shuffleton's intelligence astonishes me!--So soon to throw
herself into the arms of another!----and what could effect, even if
time for perseverance had favoured him, such a person's success with
her!

_Enter SIR SIMON ROCHDALE._

_Sir Simon._ Why, Frank! I thought you were walking with Lady
Caroline.

_Frank._ No, sir.

_Sir Simon._ Ha! I wish you would learn some of the gallantries of
the present day from your friend, Tom Shuffleton:--but from being
careless of coming up to the fashion, damn it, you go beyond it? for
you neglect a woman three days before marriage, as much as half the
Tom Shuffletons three months after it.

_Frank._ As by entering into this marriage, sir, I shall perform the
duties of a son, I hope you will do me the