MRS. OAK. Ay, ay, pray do, sir! Dine at a tavern indeed! (Going.)
OAK. (returning). You may depend on me another time, Major.
|MAJ. Steel! adamant! ah!||525|
MRS. OAK. (returning). Mr. Oakly!
OAK. O, my dear! Exeunt.
Manent MAJOR OAKLYand CHARLES.
MAJ. Ha, ha, ha! there's a picture of resolution. There goes a philosopher for you! Ha, Charles!
|CHAR. O, uncle! I have no spirits to laugh||530|
MAJ. So! I have a fine time on't, between you and my brother. Will you meet me to dinner at the St. Alban's, by four? We'll drink her health,
|and think of this affair.||535|
CHAR. Don't depend on me: I shall be running all over the town, in pursuit of my Harriot. I have been considering what you have said; but at all events I'll go directly to Lady Freelove's. If I find
|her not there, which way I shall direct myself,||540|
MAJ. Hark ye, Charles! if you meet with her, you may be at a loss. Bring her to my house: I have a snug room, and --
|CHAR. Pho! prithee, uncle, don't trifle with||545|
MAJ. Well, seriously then, my house is at your service.
CHAR. I thank you. But I must be gone.
|MAJ. Ay, ay, bring her to my house, and||550|
|with her father. That's the modern art of||555|
A room in the Bull and Gate Inn.
Enter SIR HARRY BEAGLEand TOM.
SIR H. Ten guineas a mare, and a crown the man; ha, Tom?
TOM. Yes, your honor.
SIR H. And are you sure, Tom, that there is no
|flaw in his blood?||5|
TOM. He's as good a thing, sir, and as little beholden to the ground, as any horse that ever went over the turf upon four legs. Why, here's his whole pedigree, your honor.
|SIR H. Is it attested?||10|
TOM. Very well attested: it is signed by Jack Spur, and my Lord Startall. (Giving the pedigree.)
SIR H. Let me see. (Reading.)
Tom-come-tickle-me was got out of the famous
|Tantwivy mare, by Sir Aaron Driver's||15|
|Duchess, and his grandsire 'Squire Sportly's||20|
|the famous Prince Anamaboo.||25|
John X Spur,
|TOM. All fine horses, and won everything!||30|
SIR H. Well then, we'll think on't. But pox on't, Tom, I have certainly knocked up my little
|roan gelding, in this damned wild-goose chase||35|
TOM. He's deadly blown, to be sure, your honor; and I am afraid we are upon a wrong scent after all. Madam Harriot certainly took across the country,
|instead of coming on to London.||40|
SIR H. No, no, we traced her all the way up. But d'ye hear, Tom, look out among the stables and repositories here in town, for a smart road nag, and a strong horse to carry a portmanteau.
|TOM. Sir Roger Turf's horses are to be sold:||45|
|SIR H. Not enough of a horse! Snip's a||50|
|mash, and look at his heels and his eyes. But||55|
TOM. I left the squire at breakfast on a cold pigeon-pie, and enquiring after Madam Harriot in the kitchen. I'll let him know your honor would
|be glad to see him here.||60|
SIR H. Ay, do. But hark ye, Tom, be sure you take care of Snip.
TOM. I'll warrant, your honor.
SIR H. I'll be down in the stables myself by and
|by. Exit TOM.||65|
Questia, a part of Gale, Cengage Learning. www.questia.com
Publication information: Book title: British Dramatists from Dryden to Sheridan. Contributors: George Henry Nettleton - Editor, Arthur Eillicot Case - Editor. Publisher: Boston ; Houghton Mifflin company,.. Place of publication: Boston; New York. Publication year: 1939. Page number: 684.
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