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Lord G. You jest, surely!
Woodville till you are ready; and, as I doubt Gov. H. There's no jest like a true one. not that his next visit will be to this creature, Ha, ha, ha! how foolish you look! this is by following him you will find out where your innocent elegance; and this is the bless- she lives. Prepare then as quick as possible, ed effect of letting him live out of your own and send me word when you are ready, for house!
till then I will not suffer him to depart: [Exit. Lord G. Pr’ythee reserve your raillery, sir, Vane. A pretty errand this his formal lordfor some less interesting occasion. To have ship has honoured me with. Um, if I betray my views thus in a moment overturned ! him, shall I not get more by it? Ay, but our Where does she live?
heir is such a sentimental spark, ibat when Gov. H. Ha, ha, ha! Oh, the difference of his turn was served, be might betray me. those little syllables me and thee! now you Were he one of our harum-skarum, goodcan guess what made me so peevish, I sup- natured, good-for-nothing fellows, it' would pose? As to where miss lives, I have not go against my conscience to do him an ill heard; but somewhere near his lodgings. A turn. I believe I stand well in my lord's devilish fine girl she is by-the-by. Åh, I told will, if counsellor Puzzle may be trusted (and you twenty years ago, you would spoil this when he can get nothing by a lie perhaps he boy; entirely spoil bim.
may tell truth), so, like all thriving men, I Lord G. Zounds, governor, you have a will be honest because it best serves my intemper Socrates himself could not have sup- terest.
. ported. Is this a time for old sayings of twenty years ago ? Finish dressing; by that Scene III. - A confined Garden. time your nephew will be here, and I shall have reflected on this matter.
Woodville discovered walking about. Gov. H. With all my heart. 'Tis but a
Wood. How tedious is this uncle! how boyish frolic, and so good morning to you. tedious every body! Was it not enough to Here; where's my triumvirate? Pompey! An- spend two detestable months from my love, thony! Cæsar!)
[Exit. merely to preserve the secret, but I must be Lord G. A boyish frolic truly! many a lantalized with seeing, without arriving at her? foolish fellow's life has been marked by such Yet how, when I do see her, shall I
appease a boyish frolic. But her residence is the first that affecting pride of a noble heart, conscious object of my inquiry. Vane!
too late of its own inestimable value? Why
was I not uniformly just? I had then spared Enter VANE.
myself the bitterest of regrets. Is not my son come ? Vane. "This moment, my lord; and walks
Enter CAPTAIN HARCOURT. till the governor is ready.
Capt. H. Woodville! how do'st? Don't Lord'H. Vane! I have deserved you should you, in happy retirement, pity me my Ealing be attached to me, and I hope you are?
and Acton marches and countermarches, as Vane. My lord! What the devil is he at? Foote bas it? But, methinks thy face is
[Aside. thinner and longer than a forsaken nymph's, Lord G. This strange old governor has wbo is going through the whole ceremony of alarmed me a good deal; you are more likely nine month's repentance. What, thou'st fallen to know, whether with reason, than I can be. in love? rustically too! Nay, prythee don't Have you heard any thing important of my look so very lamentable. son lately?
Wood. Ridiculous! How can we have an Vane. Never, my lord.
cye or ear for pleasure, when our fate hangs Lord G. Not that he keeps a mistress? over us undecided? What does the fool smile at? [Aside. Capt. H. I guess what you mean; but why
Vane. I did not think that any thing im- make mountains of mole-hills? Is the rosyportant, my lord.
fisted damsel so obstinately virtuous ? Lord G. I do, sir; and am told a Wood. Imagine a fair favourite of Phæbus important thing; that he even thinks of marry in all respects; since, while her face caught ing her. Now, though I cannot credit this, I his beams, her heart felt his genius! Imagine would choose to know what kind of creature all the graces hid under a straw hat and she is. Could not you assume a clownish dis- russet gown; imagineguise, and, scraping an acquaintance with Capt. H. You have imagined enough of her people, learn something of her character conscience; and now for a few plain facts if and 'designs?
you please. Vane. Doubtless, to oblige your lordship, Wood. To such a lovely country maid I I could do such a thing. But if Mr. Wood- lost my heart last summer; and soon began ville's sharp eyes (and love will render them to think romances the only true histories, still sharper) should discover me, I might and happiness not merely possible in a colchance to get a good drubbing in the cha- tage, but only possible there. racter of a spy.
Capt. H. Well, a! the philosophers (anLord G. Oh, it is very improbable he should cient and modern), would never be able to suspect you: at the worst, name your em-convince nie a coach was not a miglity pretty ployer, and your bones are safe. The office vehicle, and the lasses as good-natured in perhaps is not very agreeable, but I impose town as country. But pray, let us know why few such on you: execute it well, and you you laid aside the pastoral project of eating shall remember it with pleasure. I will detain fat bacon and exercising a crook all day, that
1) The names of the old Governor's black-serpants, thou mightest conclude the evening with the be is whimsical, changeable. Bridget discovered fetching various small 2) Vauxhall.
superlative indulgence of a peat-fire and a Jars with Flowers, and talks as she bed stuffed with straw?
places them. Wood. Why, faith, by persuading the dear Prid. Lord help us, how fantastical some girl to share mine.
folks not an hundred miles off are! If I can Capt. H. Ob, now you talk the language imagine what's come to my lady: here has of the world; and does that occasion thee she been sighing and groaning these two such a melancholy face?
months, because her lover was in the country; Wood. How ignorant are you both of me and now, truly, she's sighing, and groaning and her! Every moment since I prevailed because he is come to town. Such maggots 1) has only served to convince me I can sooner indeed! I might as well have staid in our live without every thing else than her; and parish all the days of my life, as to live mewed this fatal leisure (caused by my absence with up with her in ihis dear sweet town; I could my father), she has employed in adding every but have done that with a vạirtuous lady, algrace of art to those of nature; till
, thoroughly though I know she never was at Fox-halla) shocked at her situation, her letters are as in all her jaunts, and we two should cut such full of grief as love, and I dread to hear a figure there ! Bless me, what's come to the every hour I have lost her.
glass? [Setting her Dress] Why, sure it is Capt. H. I dread much more to hear you dulled with her eternal sigbing, and makes have lost yourself. Ah, my dear Woodville, me look as frightful as herself! "O, bere she the most dangerous charm of love is, every comes, with a face as long and dismal as if man conceits no other ever found out his he was going to be married, and to somebody method of loving; but, take my word for it, else too. 'your Dolly may be brought back to a milkmaid. Leave her to herself awhile, and she'll Enter Cecilia, and throws herself on the drop the celestials, I dare swear.
Sofa, leaning on her Hand. Wood. She is too noble; and nothing but Cecil. What can detain Woodville such an the duty I owe to so indulgent a father, pre- age? It is an hour at least since he rode by. vents me from offering her all the reparation Run, Bridget, and look if you can see him in my power.
through the drawing-room window. Capt. H. A fine scheme truly! Why, Wood- Brid. Yes, madam. ville, art frantic? To predestinate yourself [Exit
, eyeing her with Contempt
. among the horned cattle of Doctor's Com- Cecil. How wearisome is every hour to the mons, and take a wise for the very reason wretched! They catch at each future one, which makes so many spend thousands to get merely, to while away the present; for, were rid of one.
Woodville here, could he relieve me from Wood. To withdraw an amiable creature the torment of reflection; or the strong, though from her duty, without being able to make silent, acknowledgment my own heart perpeher happy, is to me a very serious reflection: tually gives of my error ? pay, I sinned, I may say, from virtue; and Brid. [Withoul] Here he comes, ma'am; had' I been a less grateful son, might have here he comes ! called myself a faultless lover.
. Does he ? Run down then. [Fluttered. Çapt. H. Well, well, man, you are young Brid. [Without] Dear me, no, 'tis not, enough to trust to time, and he does wonders. neither; Above all, shake off this mental lethargy.
Re-enter BRIDGET. Wood. I will endeavour to take your adrice. Should she fly, I were undone for ever. 'Tis only the French ambassador's new cook, But you are no judge of my Cecilia's sin- with his huge bag and long ruffles. cerity. How should you know those qualities Cecil. Blind animal! Sure nothing is so which rise with every following hour? Can tormenting as expectation. you think so meanly of me, as that I could
Brid. l.a, ma'am, any thing, will torment be duped by a vulgar wretch; a selfish wan- one when one has a mind to be tormented, ton? Oh no,
she possesses every virtue but which must be your case for sartin. What the one I have robbed her of. [Exit. signifies sitting mope, mope, mope, from morn
Capt. H. Poor Frank! did I love your wel- ing to night? You'd find yourself a deal better fare less, I could soon ease your heart, by if you went out only two or three times a acquainting, you of my marriage with miss day; For a walk, we are next door to the Mortimer; but now the immediate consequence Park, as I may say; and for a ride, such a would be, this ridiculous match. How, if I dear sweet vis-a-vis and pretty borses might apprise either my lord or the governor? both tempt any one. Then, as to company, you'll obstinate in different ways: I might betray on-say, “A fig for your starched ladies, who owe ly to ruin him. A thought occurs: my per- their virtue to their ugliness!” Mine is very son is unknown to her; choosing an bour much at your service. when he is absent, I'll pay her a visit, offer Cecil. How could I endure this girl, did I her an advantageous settlement, and learn not know that her ignorance exceeds even from her behaviour her real character and in-ber impertinence. [Aside] I have no pleasure tentions.
[Erit. in going abroad. ACT II.
Brid. Oh la, ma'am, how should you know Scene I.-An elegant Dressing-room, with see and be seen. Then there's such a delightful
till you try? Sure every body must wish 10 a Toilette, richly ornamented. A Harpsichord, and a Frame, with Embroidery. 1) A person is said to have a maggot in his head when
burricane, all the world are busy,, though Woodyille, I am an altered being! Why have most are doing nothing; to splash the mob, you reduced me to shrink thus in your preand drive against the people of quality. Oh, sence? Oh, why have you made me unworthy give me a coach, and London for ever and of yourself? ever! You could but lock yourself up, were [Leans against his Shoulder, weeping. you as old and ugly as gay lady Grizzle at Wood. Cruel girl! is this my welcome ? next door.
When did I appear to think you so? Cecil. Had I been so, I had continued happy. Cecil. Tell me when any one else will think
Brid. La, ma'am, don't ye talk so purpha-me otherwise. nely! 1) Happy to be old and ugly? 'Or, I'll Wood. Will you never be above so narrow tell you what: as you don't much seem to a prejudice ? Are we not the whole world to fancy going out, suppose you were lo come each other? Nay, dry your tears: allow me to down now and then (you know we have a dry them. [Kisses her] What is there in the pure large ball), and take a game of romps reach of love or wealth i bave not sought to
If you were once to see our Jacob make you happy? bunt the slipper, you would die with laugh
Cecil. That which is the essence of all ening! Madam Frisk, my last mistress, used, as joyments, innocence! Woodville, you soon as ever master was gone (and indeed he knew not the value of the heart whese peace did not trouble her much with his company), you have destroyed. My sensibility first ruined to run down, draw up her brocaded niggle- my virtue, and ihen my repose. But though de-gee, 2) and fall to play at some good fun for you l' consented to abandon an humble or other! Dear heart, we were as merry then bappy home, to embitter the age of my veneras the day was long! I am sure I have never able father, and bear the contempt of the been half so happy since.
world, I can never support my own. My Cecil. I cannot possibly imitate the model heart rcvolts against my situation, and hourly you propose; but though I don't choose to go bids me renounce a splendour, which only abroad, you may:
renders guilt more despicable. (Rises] I meant Brid. 'I don't love to go, much among the to, explain this hereafter, but the agitation of mobility, 3) neither. If indeed, madam, next my mind obliged me to lighten it immediately. winter you'd give me some of your tickets, I Wood. Is your affection then already exwould fain go to a masquerade (it vexes me tinct? For sure it must, when you can resolve lo see um stick in the thing-um-bobs 4) for to torture me thus! months together); and Mrs. Trim promises. Cecil. Were my love extinct, I might sink me the lent of a Wenus's dress, which, she into a mean content! Oh, no! 'Tis to that says, I shall cut a figure in. Now, ma'am, if alone I owe my resolution. I had but some diamonds (for beggars wear Wood. Can you then plunge me into desdiamonds there, they say), who knows but I pair ? So young, so lovely too! Oh! where might make my fortune, like you?
could you find so safe an asylum as my heart? Cecil. Mar it, much rather, like me. That Whither could you fly ? is no place for girls of your station, which Cecil. I am obliged to you, sir, for the exposes you to so much insult.
question; but who is it has made me thus Brid. "Ah, let me alone, madam, for taking destitute? I may retain your protection indeed, care of number one. I ware never afeard but but at what price ? once in my whole life, and that ware of Wood. Give me but a little time, my love! grandfar's 5) ghost; for he always hated I, and I am equally perplexed between my father and used to walk (poor soul!) in our barken, for my uncle; each of whom offers me a wife I can ali the world like an ass with a tie-wig on. never love. Suffer them to defeat each other's
(4 knocking: schemes! Let me if possible be happy without Cecil. Hark! that sure is Woodville's knock! a crime; for I must think it one to grieve a Fly, and see! [Exil Bridgel. Cecilia walks parent bitherfo so indulgent. I will not put eagerly to the Door, and returns as eagerly] any thing in competition with your peace; Alas, is this my repentance? Dare I sin against and long for the hour when the errors of the my judgment?
lover will be absorbed in the merits of the
husband. Enter WoodviLLE.
Cecil. No, Woodville! That was, when inWood. My Cecilia! my soul! have I at last nocent, as far above my hopes, as it is now the happiness of beholding you? You know beyond my wishes. I love you too sincerely me too well to imagine I would punish my- to reap any advantage from so generous an self by a moment's voluntary delay.
error; yet you at once flatler and wound my Cecil. Oh no, it is not that.
heart, in allowing me worthy such a distinca [They sit down on the Sofa. tion; but love cannot subsist without ésteem, Wood. Say you are glad to see me; afford and how should I possess yours when I have me one kind word to atone for your cold lost even my own? looks. Are you not well ?
Wood. It is impossible you should ever Cecil. Rather say I am not happy. My dear lose either, while so deserving of both. I am
obliged to return directly, but will hasten to 1) Prophanely. 2) Néglige.
you the very first moment. When we meet 5) The nobility are the titled of the land, and the again it must be with a smile, remember! mobility the lowest class; but she means the first
Cecil. It will when we meet again. Oh, class, here. 4) When one does not know the name of a thing one
how those words oppress me! [Aside] But generally calls it 'Thingumbob, Thingummerre etc. do not regulate your conduct by mine, nor 5) Grandfather's.
make me an argument with yourself for disobeying my lord; for here I solemnly swear made I cuome and live at the hall; and as never to accep! you without the joint consent my bead run all on tuown, when aw comed of both our fathers; and that I consider as an up to London, aw brought I wi'un: zo I thought eternal abjuration! But may the favoured wo-to get rid that way of the bullocking of Nan. inan you are 'to make happy, have all my Vane. But, Jacob, how didst get into thic") love without my weakness!" (Exit in Tears. foine bouse?
Wood. Disinterested, exalted girl! Why Jacob. Dang it, doan't I zeay, I'll tell the add such a needless bar? For is it possible to present! Zoa, as I ware zaying, one holiday gain my father's consent? And yet without her I went to zee thic there church, wi' the top life would be insupportable! The censures of like a huge punch-bowl turned auver; and, the world! What is that world to me? Were dang it! who should arrive in the very nick, I weak enough to sacrifice her to the erro- but madam Nan. Well, huome comes I as neous judgment of the malicious and unfeel-merry as a cricket; zquire caals for I in a ing, what does it offer to reward me? Com- muortal hurry; when who zhould I zee, but mendations I can never deserre, and riches I madam Nan on her marrowbones a croving can never enjoy.
[Exit. for dear loife! dang it, I thought at first Scene II.-A Street before Cecilia's House. should ha' zwounded'; zo a made a long zar
mant about 'ducing a poor girl, and zaid I Jacob opens the Door and lets out W00D- should zartainly go to the divil forit, and then
VILLE, who passes over the Stage; JacoB turned I off. But the best fun is to come, remains with his Hands in his Pockets, mun; rabbit me! if aw did not teake Nan into whistling. Enter VANE, disguised, with keeping himself; and zhe do faunt it about, a Basket of Game in his Hand.
as foine as a duchess. Vane. So, there he goes at last. I
l'ane. A mighty religious moral gentleman, open
the attack without fear of a discovery, truiy! [Aside Well, how came you to this since our hopeful heir will bardly return di- pleace? rectly. This intelligence of my landlord's at Jacob. Why, Meay-day, walking in Comthe Blue Posts bas made the matter much mon-garden?) to smell the pozeys, who zhould easier. Um, a good subject ! Sure I ought to I zee but our Bridget! I was muortal glad to know that bumkin's face! As I live, my play- zee her, you must needs think, and zhe got I fellow at the parish-school: Jacob Gawky! this here pleace. Now for a touch of the old dialect. , D'ye hire, Vane. Wounds! dost live wi' a lord in this young mon! Pray, do ye knaw where one foine house? Bett Dowson do live?
Jacob. Noa; a leady, you fool! but zuch a Jacob. Noa, not I.
leady, zuch a dear, easy, good-natured creaVane. Hay! Why, zure ) as (wo-pence, lure? zhe do never say noa, let we do what thou beest Jacob Gawky!
Jacob. Odsbodlikins!' zo I be indeed! But, Vane. Now to the point. [Aside] Is your who beest thee?
lady married ? Vane. What, doost not knaw thy ould Jacob, Noa: but zhe's as good; and what'st zkhoolvellow, Wull, mun?
ihink mun? to a lord's zon! though if a wa Jacob. Hay! What? Wull? Od rabbit it, a king, aw would not be too good for zhe. if I ben't desprate glad to zee thee; where A muortal fine comely mon too, who do love doost live now, mun?
her, as aw do the eyes in his head. Couzin Vune. Down at bnome, in our parish. I Bridget do tell I, zhe zeeded 5) a letter where be coemed up with Zur Izaac Promise to be aw do zay aw wull ha' her any day of the meade excoisemun.
week, whatever do come o'th' next. Why, I Jacob. Thee'st good luck, faith! wish, no warrant they have 'pointed wedding-day! odds too thee, my fortin ware as good! but Vane. The devil ihey have? My lord will theed'st always a muortal good notion of go mad at this news.
[Aside. wroiting and cyphers, while I don't knaw my Jacob. Lauk a deazy! how merry we will own neame when I do zee it. What didst be on that day! Wo'i come and junket wil leare zea for?
us? Vane. Why, I ware afraid I should be Vane. Yes, yes, I shall certainly make one killed before I comed to be a great mon: but among you, either then or before. [Aside) what brought thee into this foine house? But now I must goa and give this geame to
Jacob. Fortin, Wull! Fortin. Didst thee zquire-zquire—what the dickens be his name! knaw Nan o'th' mill?
I do always forget it, there zhould be a ticket Vane. Noa, not I.
somewhere: zoa, rabbit me! if some of your Jucob. Od rabbitit! I thought every muortal London faulk ha' no' cut off, out o'fun! zoul had knawd zhe. Well, Nan and I ware Jacob. Ha, ha, ha! 'ecod, nothing more lisuch near neighbors, there ware only a barn kelier. [Both laugh foolishly] The rum between us;
zhe ware a desperate zmart lass, people be zo zharp, as needles. But there's no that's the truth on't: and I had balf a moind pleace like it for all that; I be set upon living to leake to feyther's business, and marry zhe: and dying in it. but, ecod, the zimpletony grow'd so fond, that Vane. Now to secure my return if necessome how or other, I ware tired first! when sary, [ Aside] I'll tell thee what, Jacob! seeing behold you, zquire takes a fancy to me, and as how I ha lost thic there direction, do thee
teake the basket: 'tis only a present of geame 1) This dialect is much the same as the Yorkshire, only from the parson o our parish; and, if zo be
that the « is changed into 2, and the hard letters into I can't find the gentleman, wby 'tis honestly soft ones at the beginning of a syllable; for instance, curt for sure, #khoolvellow, schoolfellow, etc.
1) That. 2) Covent-garden.
mine. Meay be I'll come, and teake a bit o'l a lovely girl, indeed! I can scarce blame Frank, supper wi' ye.
for she awes me. Jacob. Wull ye indeed? dang it! that's clever; and then you'll see our Bridget. She's
Enter Cecilia, followed officiously by a muortal zmart lass, I promise ye! and, meay
BRIDGET. be, may'st get a peap at my leady, who's de- Cecil. I was informed, sir, you bad partisperate handsome! Good bye t'ye. Bridget's calar business with me. zo comical! od rabbit il, we'll be main merry. Capt. H. I took the liberty, madam-I say,
[Erit. madam, 1Fane. Thus far I have succeeded to admi- Cecil. As I have neither friends or relations ration! our young heir has really a mind to in London, [Sighs] I am at a loss to guess-play the fool and marry his mistress! though, Capt. H. What I would communicate, mafaith, marrying his own does not seem very dam, requires secresy. inexcusable, when so many of his equals mo- Cecil. Bridget, go where I ordered you just destly content themselves with the cast-offs of now. half their acquaintance.
[Erit. Brid. Yes, madam. But if I an't even with
[Aside, and erit. Scene III. – An Apartment in Cecilia's you for this
Cecil. I complied with your request, sir, House.
without inquiring the motive; because you, Enter BRIDGET.
think, can have only one. My father, if I may Brid. So, just the old story again! crying, trust my heart, has made you his messenger crying for ever! Lord, if I was a man, I should to an unwilling offender. hate such a whimpering - what would she Capt. H. Pardon me, madam, but I refer bare I wonder? to refuse such a handsome, you to this. genteel, good-natured man! and, I'll be sworn, Cecil. [Reads] Madam,-Being certainly he offered to marry her; for I listened with informed Mr. Woodville is on the point of all my ears! Oh, that he would have me now! marrying a Indy chosen by his friends, I should become my own coach prodigiously, when it is presumed you will be disengaged, that's a sure thing. [A knocking] Hay, who a nobleman of rank and estate above what. knocks ?
he can ever possess, is thus early in laying Enter Jacob.
his heart and fortune at your feel, lest
some more lucky rival should anticipate Jacob. A young mon do want my leady. him. The bearer is authorised to disclose Brid. A man ? what sort of a man? all particulars, and offer you a settlement
Jacob. Why a mon-like-just such ano- worthy your acceptance. - Deign, madam, ther as I.
to listen to him on the subject, and you Brid. No, no, no; that's not so easy to will find the unknown lover as generous, find. What can any man want with her? and not less constant, than Woodville. show bim in here, Jacob.
Good heavens! to what an insult have I exJacob. [Returning in a kind of slee] posed myself! When shall we have the wedding, Bridget ? [Bursts into Tears, and sinks into a
Brid. We shall have a burying first, I Chair, without minding Harcourt, believe.
who watches her with Irresolution. Jacob. Od rabbit it! we won't be their se- Capt. H. What can I think? There is an conds there, faith!
[Exit. air of injured delicacy in her which teaches Brid. Now, if he mistakes me for my lady, me to reproach myself for a well-meant deI shall find out what he wants.
ceit. [Aside] If, madamRe-enter Jacob, with Captain Harcourt, Return, sir, to your vile employer; tell him,
Cecil. I had forgot this wretch. (Rises] disguised.
whoever he is, I am too sensible of the insult, Capt. H. Is that your lady? [Surveying her. though not entitled to resent it; tell him Í
Jacob. He, he, he! lauk, zur, don't you have a heart above my situation, and that he know that's our Bridget?
has only had the barbarous satisfaction of addBrid. So, deuce on him, there's my whole ing another misery to those which almost scheme spoiled! [Aside) My lady, sir, is en- overwhelined me before. gaged; but, if you tell me your business, it Capt. H. Hear me, madam, I conjure you ! will do just as well.
Cecil. Never! a word would contaminate Capt. H. For yourself it may, child !
[Struggles to go off. [Chucks her under the Chin. Capt. H. Nay, you shall. You do not know Brid. What, you belong to Mr. Gargle the half the good consequences of this letter. I apothecary? or come from the jeweller on am the friend, the relation of Woodville-my Ludgate-hill? or have a letter from
name, Karcourt! Capt. H. The very person; you have hit it. Cecil
. Is it possible he should be so cruel, And now, do me the favour to tell your lady, so unjust? a stranger wishes to speak to her on particu- Capt. H. He is neither cruel nor unjust, but lar business.
only unfortunate.—Hear.--He designs to marry Brid. Very well
, sir. Was ever handsome you; this I learned from himself only this man so crabbed!
. morning. As a proof of my sincerity, I will Capt. H. 'Egad, if the mistress bas balf as own I doubted your right to that mark of his much tongue as the maid, Woodville may esteem, and made this trial in consequence, catch me in the midst of my first speech. Pleased to find you worthy of his rank, I feel Now for my credentials! and here she comes! shocked at reminding you, you ought not to