The Works of Henry Fielding - Edited by George Saintsbury in 12 Volumes $p Volume 12 by Henry Fielding
page 48 of 315 (15%)
page 48 of 315 (15%)
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SCENE IX.--LUCKLESS, HARRIOT. _Luck_. Dear Harriot! _Har_. I was going to the playhouse to look after you--I am frightened out of my wits--I have left my mother at home with the strangest sort of man, who is inquiring after you: he has raised a mob before the door by the oddity of his appearance; his dress is like nothing I ever saw, and he talks of kings, and Bantam, and the strangest stuff. _Luck_. What the devil can he be? _Har_. One of your old acquaintance, I suppose, in disguise--one of his majesty's officers with his commission in his pocket, I warrant him. _Luck_. Well, but have you your part perfect? _Har_. I had, unless this fellow hath frightened it out of my head again; but I am afraid I shall play it wretchedly. _Luck_. Why so? _Har_. I shall never have assurance enough to go through with it, especially if they should hiss me. _Luck_. Oh! your mask will keep you in countenance, and as for |
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