Mor. And a great credit for me to be so:  Do but think how decent a habit you have on, and how becoming your function to be disguised like a slave, and eaves-dropping under the women’s windows, to be saluted, as you deserve it richly, with a piss-pot.  If I had not known you casually by your shambling gait, and a certain reverend awkwardness that is natural to all of your function, here you had been exposed to the laughter of your own servants; who have been in search of you through the whole seraglio, peeping under every petticoat to find you.

Muf. Pr’ythee, child, reproach me no more of human failings; they are but a little of the pitch and spots of the world, that are still sticking on me; but I hope to scour them out in time.  I am better at bottom than thou thinkest; I am not the man thou takest me for.

Mor. No, to my sorrow, sir, you are not.

Muf. It was a very odd beginning though, methought, to see thee come running in upon me with such a warm embrace; pr’ythee, what was the meaning of that violent hot hug?

Mor. I am sure I meant nothing by it, but the zeal and affection which I bear to the man of the world, whom I may love lawfully.

Muf. But thou wilt not teach me, at this age, the nature of a close embrace?

Mor. No, indeed; for my mother-in-law complains, that you are past teaching:  But if you mistook my innocent embrace for sin, I wish heartily it had been given where it would have been more acceptable.

Muf. Why this is as it should be now; take the treasure again, it can never be put into better hands.

Mor. Yes, to my knowledge, but it might.  I have confessed my soul to you, if you can understand me rightly.  I never disobeyed you till this night; and now, since, through the violence of my passion, I have been so unfortunate, I humbly beg your pardon, your blessing, and your leave, that, upon the first opportunity, I may go for ever from your sight; for heaven knows, I never desire to see you more.

Muf. [Wiping his eyes.] Thou makest me weep at thy unkindness; indeed, dear daughter, we will not part.

Mor. Indeed, dear daddy, but we will.

Muf. Why, if I have been a little pilfering, or so, I take it bitterly of thee to tell me of it, since it was to make thee rich; and I hope a man may make bold with his own soul, without offence to his own child.  Here, take the jewels again; take them, I charge thee, upon thy obedience.

Mor. Well then, in virtue of obedience, I will take them; but, on my soul, I had rather they were in a better hand.

Muf. Meaning mine, I know it.

Mor. Meaning his, whom I love better than my life.

Muf. That’s me again.

Mor. I would have you think so.

Muf. How thy good nature works upon me!  Well, I can do no less than venture damning for thee; and I may put fair for it, if the rabble be ordered to rise to-night.