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Dryden, John, 1631-1700

"The works of John Dryden, $c now first collected in eighteen volumes. $p Volume 02"


_Enter _FAILER _at a distance_.
_Fail_. Yonder they are: Now, would I compound for a reasonable
sum, that I were friends with Burr. If I am not, I shall lose Sir
Timorous.
_Const_. O, servant, have I spied you? let me run into your arms.
_Fail_. I renounce my lady Constance: I vow to gad, I renounce
her.
_Tim_. To your task, Burr.
_Enter NONSUCH and ISABELLA_.
_Const_. Hold, gentlemen! no sign of quarrel.
_Non_. O, friends! I think I shall go mad with grief: I have lost
more money.
_Lov_. Would I had it: that's all the harm I wish myself. Your
servant, madam; I go about the business.
_Exit LOVEBY_.
_Non_. What! does he take no pity on me?
_Const_. Pr'ythee, moan him, Isabella.
_Isa_. Alas, alas, poor uncle! could they find in their hearts to
rob him!
_Non_. Five hundred pounds, out of poor six thousand pounds
a-year! I, and mine, are undone for ever.
_Fail_. Your own house, you think, is clear, my lord?
_Const_. I dare answer for all there, as much as for myself.
_Burr_. Oh, that he would but think that Loveby had it!
_Fail_. If you'll be friends with me, I'll try what I can
persuade him to.
_Burr_. Here's my hand, I will, dear heart.
_Fail_. Your own house being clear, my lord, I am apt to suspect
this Loveby for such a person.


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