You are raving, I fear: who will you fetch back?
The great heiress, your niece, madam, who is run off to marry Mr. Worshipton, and all by my cursed contrivance too.
The great heiress, my niece!
Yes, my lady; your niece, Miss Clodpate: but I'll fetch her back again, tho' every bone in my skin should be broken.
This is strange, indeed! (
Considering a while.) No, no, young man, don't go after her: she is of age, and may do as she pleases.
Ods my life, you are the best good lady alive! I'll run and tell my old mother what a lady you are.
Nay, I'll go and see her myself; I may be able to make her situation more comfortable, perhaps.
