think have no business to be there, I'm more
apt to be busy in wiping them away, than in saying cruel things that
will make them flow faster; you had better tell her all this yourself,
my lord.

_Lord A._ That, sir, is impossible. If _you_ decline it, I shall find
some one less delicate.

_O'Ded._ There's reason in that, and if you send another to her, he may
not be quite so delicate, as you say: so I'll even undertake it myself.

_Lord A._ The poor girl disposed of, if the old fool, her father, will
be thus clamorous, we must not be nice as to the means of silencing
him--money, I suppose, is his object.

_O'Ded._ May be not--If a rich man by accident disables a poor man from
working, money may make him easy; but when his feelings are deliberately
tortured, devil fly away with the mercenary miser, if he will take
shining dirt as a compensation for cruelty.

_Lord A._ I can dispense with moral reflections--It may serve your
purpose elsewhere, but to me, who know your practice, your preaching is
ridiculous--What is it you propose? If the fellow wont be satisfied by
money he must be removed.

_O'Ded._ Faith, 'tis a new way, sure enough, to make reparation to the
feelings of a father, after having seduced daughter under the plea of a
false marriage, performed by a sham priest, and a forged licence!

_Fanny_ (_behind._) Oh, heaven! let me pass--I must and will see him
(_enters._) Oh, my lord! my lord! my husband! (_she falls at his feet,
he raises her_) Surely my ears deceived me--you cannot, cannot mean it!
a false marriage! a pretended priest! What is to become of me! In mercy
kill me! Let me not live to see my broken-hearted father expire with
grief and shame, or live to curse me! Spare me but this, my lord, and I
will love, forgive, will pray for you--

_Lord A._ This is a plot against me--You placed her there on purpose to
surprise me in the moment of unguarded weakness.

_O'Ded._ By St. Patrick, how she came there is a most mysterious mystery
to Cornelius O'Dedimus, attorney at law.

_Lord A._ Fanny, I entreat you, leave me.

_Fanny._ Oh, do not send me from you! Can you, my lord, abandon thus to
shame and wretchedness the poor deluded victim of your treachery!

_Lord A._ Ha! leave me, I charge you!

_Fanny._ No, no, my dearest lord! I cannot leave you! Whither shall I
fly, if these arms deny me refuge! Am I not yours? What if these wicked
men refuse me justice! There is another witness who will rise in