Set.  I would not dishearten your ladyship—­your lordship, I would say—­but I have observed, of late, your colour goes and comes extremely.  Methinks your lordship looks very sharp, and bleak i’the face, and mighty puffed i’the body.

Non.  O, the devil!  Wretched men, that we are all!  Nothing grieves me, but that, in my old age, when others are past child-bearing, I should come to be a disgrace to my family.

Const.  How do you, sir?  Your eyes look wondrous dim.  Is not there a mist before ’em?

Isa.  Do you not feel a kicking in your belly—­When do you look, uncle?

Non.  Uh, uh!—­Methinks, I am very sick o’the sudden.

Isa.  What store of old shirts have you against the good time?  Shall I give you a shift, uncle?

Non.  Here’s like to be a fine charge towards!  We shall all be brought to-bed together!  Well, if I be with devil, I will have such gossips:  an usurer, and a scrivener, shall be godfathers.

Isa.  I’ll help you, uncle; and Sawney’s two grannies shall be godmothers.  The child shall be christened by the directory; and the gossips’ gifts shall be the gude Scotch kivenant.

Const.  Set.  Non.  Tob.  Amb.  Uh! uh! uh!

Isa.  What rare music’s here!

Non.  Whene’er it comes from me, ’twill kill me; that’s certain.

Set.  Best take a vomit.

Isa.  An’t come upward, the horns will choke him.

Non.  Mass! and so they will.

Isa.  Your only way, is to make sure o’the man-midwife.

Non.  But my child’s dishonour troubles me the most.  If I could but see her well married, before I underwent the labour and peril of child-bearing!—­What would you advise, niece?

Isa.  That which I am very loth to do.  Send for honest Jack Loveby, and let him know the truth on’t:  He’s a fellow without a fortune, and will be glad to leap at the occasion.

Non.  But why Loveby, of all the world?  ’Tis but staying ’till to-morrow, and then Sir Timorous will marry her.

Const.  Uh!—­I swell so fast, I cannot hide it ’till to-morrow.

Isa.  Why, there’s it now!

Non.  I’ll send for the old alderman, Getwell, immediately:  He’ll father the devil’s bastard, I warrant you.

Isa.  Fie, uncle! my cousin’s somewhat too good yet for an alderman.  If it were her third child, she might hearken to you.

Non.  Well, since it must be so, Setstone, go you to Loveby; make my excuse to him for the arrest, and let him know, what fortune may attend him.

Isa.  Mr Setstone, pray acquaint him with my cousin’s affection to him; and prepare him to father the cushion underneath her petticoat.

[Aside to SETSTONE. Exit.]

Set.  I’ll bring him immediately.