SCENE I.

Mr. ANDREWS's house.

Enter MARIA and THOMAS.

MARIA. But why these moping, melancholy looks?
Each eye observes and marks them now unseemly,
Whilst every countenance but your's speaks joy,
At the near wedding of our master's daughter.
Sure none so well deserv'd this noble prize:
And young lord Weston will be bless'd indeed.

THOMAS. It has been countermanded.

MARIA. What again?
This is the second time. What can this mean?
Then, his unusual absence, now a month,
Nor any cause assign'd.

THOMAS. Some accident.
I know a truer flame was ne'er profess'd:
A fondness which commenced in his apprenticeship,
Here in this house, then but the late lord's nephew,
Nor next in heirship to estate or title.

MARIA. And sure all must approve his well-judg'd choice!