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A COMEDY.
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three score and ten. This Sir Rowland's daughter is a good scheme upon my soul. He must be sickly, I think, from his always living at home in such a retired situation. I dare say he'll die soon, and who knows but the lady may step off too, being of a sickly stock. Yes, I feel a persuasion within me that I am born to be a lucky fellow. But hush! here come the ladies. The fat aunt walks first, and the rich heiress follows. A genteel-looking woman, faith! this is admirable luck. But who is this awkward creature that comes sneaking after them? some humble relation, I suppose.

Enter Lady Goodbody, Miss Martin and Hannah.

LADY GOODBODY.

I beg pardon if I have made any mistake; I thought Sir John Hazelwood——

WORSHIPTON.

There is no mistake, madam; Sir John will be here immediately. Permit me to place chairs.

LADY GOODBODY.

You are very obliging, but we have sat so long in a close carriage this morning, that we should be glad to stand a little while. Sir John's politeness has made him sacrifice his own convenience, I am afraid.