_Sir Per._ Give it me, sir.

_John._ An't please you, sir, it is not mine.

_Sir Per._ Deliver it this instant, sirrah, or I'll break your head.

_John._ [_Giving the letter._] There, there your honour.

_Sir Per._ Begone, rascal.--This, I suppose, will let us intill the whole
business.

_John._ [_Aside._.] You have got the letter, old surly, but the packet is
safe in my pocket. I'll go and deliver that, however, for I will be true
to poor Mrs. Constantia in spite of you. [_Exit._

_Sir Per._ [_Reading the letter._] Um--um 'and bless my eyes with the
sight of you.'--Um--um 'throw myself into your dear arms.' Zoons! 'this
letter is invaluable.---Aha! madam--yes--this will do--this will do, I
think.--Let me see, how is it directed--'To Mr. Melville.' Vary weel.
[_Enter_ Betty.]
O! Betty, you are an excellent wench,--this letter is worth a million.

_Bet._ Is it as I suspected?--to her gallant?

_Sir Per._ It is--it is.--Bid Constantia pack out of the house this
instant--and let them get a chaise ready to carry her wherever she
pleases.--But first send my wife and son hither.

_Bet._ I shall, sir.