singled her out from all womankind; but it| Luc. Go, go, another time; I'm busy, was ever thus; she's born to be my evil ge- Serv. I've done a wicked thing; and if I nius; sure the men are mad-Tyrrel-lord don't discharge my heart, 'twill break, it is so Abberville-one touch'd my heart, the other full. wounds my pride.

Bridge. Why, ay; there is a fine estate, a noble title, great connexions, powerful in

terest.

Mrs. B. What have you done? Speak out. Sero. Why, I have been the means of ruining an innocent person; for such miss Aubrey is. Bridge. How so? Go on.

Luc. Revenge is worth them all; drive her but out of doors, and marry me to a convent. Serv. Twas I that brought lord Abberville Bridge. But let us keep some show of ju- last night into her chamber, unknown to her: stice; this may be all a frolic of lord Abber-I thought it was a little frolic to surprise her; ville's; the girl, perhaps, is innocent. but, when I heard her scream, I was alarmed, and ran and listened at the door.

Luc. Well, and what then?

Luc. How can that be, when I am miserable? Mrs. B. Come, she's been suffer'd in your house too long; had I been mistress, she Sero. Why, then I heard her chide him, should have quitted it last night upon the in- and desire him to be gone; yes, and but just stant: would she had never entered it, before you came up stairs, I heard the poor Bridge. There you make a bad wish, Mrs. young lady reproach him bitterly for his baseBridgemore; she has proved the best feather ness in making love to her, when he was enin my wing; but call her down; go, daughter, gaged to you, madam: indeed, she is as innocent as the babe unborn.

call ber down.

the odious creature more.

Luc. I'll send her to you: nothing shall Luc. Go your way for a simpleton, and prevail with me to speak to her, or look upon say no more about the matter, [Exit. Serv. To be sure I was a simpleton to do Mrs. B. What is it you are always hinting as I did; but I should never survive it, if any at about this girl? She's the best feather in mischief was to follow. your wing. Explain yourself.

Bridge. I can't; you must excuse me; 'tis better you should never know it.

[Exil

Bridge. What's to be done now? Mrs. B. What's to be done? why let her take her course; guilty or not, what matters Mrs. B. Why, where's the fear; what can it, if every man who offers for your daughter, you have to dread from a destitute girl, with-is to turn aside and follow after her? out father, and without friend? Luc. True, where's the woman who can Bridge. But is she really without a father? pardon that? indeed, had she been really criWas I once well assured of that-But hash! my minal, I could have endur'd her better, for daughter's here--Well, where's miss Aubrey? then I had had one qualification, which she had wanted; now she piques, me every way.

Re-enter LUCINDA, followed by a Maid-ser

vant.

Luc. The bird is flown.
Bridge. Hey-day, gone off!
Mrs. B. That's flat conviction.
Bridge. What have you there? A letter?
Luc. She found it on her table.
Bridge. Read it, Lucy.

Luc. I beg to be excused, sir; I don't choose to touch her nasty scrawl.

Bridge. Well, then, let's see; I'll read it myself.

Enter Servant.

Serv. Lord Abberville, madam, desires to be admitted to say a word to you.

Luc. Who? Lord Abberville?

Mrs. B. Oh, by all means admit him; now, Lucy, show yourself a woman of spirit; receive him, meet his insulting visit with becoming contempt.-Come, Mr. Bridgemore, let us leave them to themselves.

[Exeunt Mr. and Mrs. Bridgemore. Luc. Ahem; now, pride support me. Enter LORD ABBERVILLE.

[Reads] Sir-Since neither lord Abberville's testimony, nor my most solemn proteslations can prevail with you to believe Lord A. Miss Bridgemore, your most obeme innocent, Í prevent miss Bridgemore's dient; I come, madam, on a penitential erthreaten'd dismission by withdrawing my-rand, to apologize to you and miss Aubrey helf for ever from your family: how the for the ridiculous situation in which I was world will receive a destitute, defenceless surprised last night. orphan I am now to prove; I enter on my trial without any armour but my innocence ; which, though insufficient to secure to me the continuance of your confidence, will, by the favour of Providence, serve, I hope, to support me under the loss of it.

So! she's elop'd

AUGUSTA AUBREY.

Mrs. B. Ay, this is lucky; there's an end of her: this makes it her own act and deed; give me the letter; go, you need not wait. [To the Servant.

Luk. Cool, easy villain!

[Aside. Lord A. I dare say, you laugh'd most heartily after I was gone.

Luc. Most incontinently-incomparable assurance! [Aside.

Lord A. Well, I forgive you; 'twas ridiculous enough; a foolish frolic, but absolutely harmless be assur'd: I'm glad to find you no longer serious about it-But where's miss Aubrey, pray? v

Luc. You'll find her probably at your own door; she's gone from hence. Enter Servant.

Stro. Mr. Tyrrel, madam.

Luc. Show him in, pray-My lord, you've no objection.

Lord A. None in life; I know him intima

ACT III.

tely; but if you please, I'll take my leave; you SCENE I.-The Street, with a distant View may have business-Curse on't, he is the lady's lover.

[Aside.

Luc. Nay, I insist upon your staying-Now malice stand my friend!-Good morning to you, sir, you're welcome to town.

Enter TYRREL

of the Square.

Enter COLIN.

Colin. Ah, Coln, thou'rt a prodigal; a thriftless loon 1) thou'st been, that could na' keep a little pelf to thysall when thou hadst got it; now thou may'st gang in this poor geer 2) to thy life's end, and worse too for Tyr. I thank you-I am wrong, I believe; aught I can tell; 'faith, mon, 'twas a smeart your servant should not have shown me in little bysack of money thou hadst scrap'd here: 'tis with miss Aubrey I request to together, and the best part of it had na' been speak. laft amongst thy kinsfolk, in the Isles of Skey Luc. Lord Abberville, you can direct Mr. and Mull; muckle gude, may it do the weams Tyrrel to miss Aubrey; she has left this fa- of them that ha' it! There was Jamie Mac mily, sir. Grejor, and Sawney Mac Nab, and the twa

Tyr. Madam-My lord-I beg to know-braw lads of Kinruddin, with old Charley I don't understand

Lord A. Nor I, upon my soul: was any thing so malicious?

Mac Dougall, my mother's first husband's seever cond cousin: by my sol I could na' see such [Aside. near relations, and gentlemen of sich auncient Luc. My lord, why don't you speak? Mr. families, gang upon bare feet, while I rode a Tyrrel may have particular business with miss horseback: I had been na' true Scot, an I Aubrey. could na' ge'en a countryman a gude laft 3)

Lord A. Why do you refer to me? How upon occasion. should I know any thing of miss Aubrey? Luc. Nay, I ask pardon; perhaps Mr. Tyrrel's was a mere visit of compliment.

Tyr. Excuse me, madam; I confess it was an errand of the most serious sort.

Luc. Then it's cruel not to tell him where you've plac'd her.

Tyr. Plac'd her!

Lord A. Ay, plac'd her indeed! For heaven's sake, what are you about?

Luc. Nay, I have done, my lord; but after last night's fatal discovery, I conceived you would no longer affect any privacy as to your situation with miss Aubrey.

[As he is going out Miss Aubrey enters, Aug. That house is Mr. Mortimer's; and yet I can't resolve to go to it: to appeal to Tyrrel is a dangerous step; it plunges him again in my unprosperous concerns, and puts his life a second time in danger; still, still I know not how to let him think me guilty: wretched, unfriended creature that I am, what shall I do? [As she is going out Colin advances. Colin. Haud 4) a bit, lassie, you that are bewailing; what's your malady?

Aug. Sir! Did you speak to me?

Colin. Troth, did I; I were loath to let affliction pass beside me, and not ask it what

Tyr. What did you discover last night, it ail'd. madam? tell me; I have an interest in the question.

Aug. Do you know me then?

Colin. What need have I to know you? An you can put me in the way to help you, isn't that enough?

Luc. I'm sorry for't, for then you'll not be pleas'd to hear that she admits lord Abberville by night into her bedroom, locks him Aug. I thank you: if I have your pity, that up in it, and on detection the next morning, is all my case admits of. openly avows her guilt, by eloping to her Colin. Wha' can tell that? I may be better gallant. than I seem: as sorry a figure as I cut, I have Tyr, What do I hear?-My lord, my lord, as gude blude in my veins, and as free of it if this is truetoo, as any Briton in the lond; troth, an you Lord A. What then?-What if it is? Must be of my country, madam, you may have I account to you? Who makes you my in- heard as much. quisitor?

Aug. I do not question it; but I am not of Tyr. Justice, humanity, and that control Scotland. which virtue gives me over its opposers: if Colin. Well, well, an if you had the de'il more you would, with anguish I confess, my a bit the worse should I ha' lik'd you for it; heart unhappily was plac'd on her whom you but it was not your lot; we did na' make have ruin'd; now you'll not dispute my oursalls; 5) Paradise itsal would na' hald 6) right. all mankind, nor Scotland neither; and let me Lord A. This is no place to urge your tell you, there's na' braver or more auncient right; I shall be found at home. people underneath heaven's canopy; no, nor Tyr. I'll wait upon you there. [Exit Tyrrel. a nation of the terrestrial globe wha have Lord A. Do so-your servant-Miss Bridge- more love and charity for one another. more, I am infinitely your debtor for this Aug. Well, sir, you seem to wish to do agreeable visit; I leave you to the enjoyment me service: I've a letter here; I cannot well of your many amiable virtues, and the pleas- deliver it myself; if you are of this neighing contemplation of what may probably bourhood, perhaps you know the house of ensue from the interview you have provided Mr. Mortimer. for me with Mr. Tyrrel. [Exit. Colin. Hoot! hoot! I ken him well; 1 came Luc. Ha, ha, ha! I must be less or more fra' thence but now. than woman, if I did not relish this reta- 1) Rascal. 2) Dress.

liation.

selves.

5) Lift.

4) Hold. 3) Our

6) Hold.

at Mr. Mortimer's.

Aug. Will you take charge of this, and Aug. I readily believe you; and to convince give it as directed? the gentleman will be found you of it, put me, I beseech you, in some present shelter, till the labour of my hands Colin. To Francis Tyrrel, esquire-Ah! an can keep me, and hold me up but for a 'tis thereabouts you point, gadzooks, your breathing-space, till I can rally my exhausted labour's lost; you may ev'n wear the willow, spirits, and learn to struggle with the world. as they say, for by my troth he'll play the loon wi' you.

Colin. Ay, will I by my sol, so heaven gives life; and woe betide the child that does you Aug. Is that his character? wrong! I be na' smuthly 1) spoken, but you Colin. No; but he canna' well be true to shall find me true.-And look, the first door twa at the same time.

that I cast my ey'n upon, I ken the name of Aug. His heart's engag'd it seems: what is Macintosh: troth, 'tis a gudely omen and the lady's name? prognostic; the Macintoshes and Macleods are Colin. Woe worth her name! I canna' re-aw of the same blood fra' long antiquity: had collect it now; an it had been a Scottish we search'd aw the town we could "na' find a name, I should na' let it slip so; but I've no better. [Knocks at the Door] Odzooks, fear mighty memory for your English callings; nothing, damsel, an she be a true Macintosh, they do na' dwell upon my tongue: out on't! you need na' doubt a welcome. [Mrs. Ma'tis with a grete fat lubber yonder in the city cintosh comes to the Door] Gude day to you, that she dwells; a fellow with a paunch below madam, is your name Macintosh, pray you? his gullet, like the poke of a pelican; and now Mrs. M. It is: what are your commands? I call to mind, 'tis Aubrey is her name; ay, Colin. Nay, hau'd a bit, gude child, we comay, 'tis Aubrey; she's the happy woman. mand nought; but being, d'ye see, a Scottish Aug. Is she the happy woman? Well, sir, kinsman of yours, Colin Macleod by name, if you'll deliver that letter into Mr. Tyrrel's I crave a lodgment in your house for this hands; there is no treason in it against miss poor lassie.-Gude troth you need na' squant 2) Aubrey; she herself is privy to the contents. at her so closely; there's nought to be suColin. You need na' doubt but I shall honde spected; and though she may na boast so long it to him; I were a sorry child an I could a pedigree as you and I do, yet for an English grudge you that: where shall I bring his answer? family, she's of no despicable house; and as Aug. It requires none. for reputation, gude faith the lamb is not more

Colin. But an he craves to know your house, innocent: respecting mine own sall I will na' where mun I say you dwell? vaunt, but an you've any doubts, you need na' gang a mighty length to satisfy 'em: I'm no impostor.

Aug. I have no house, no home, no father, friend, or refuge in this world; nor do I at this moment, fainting as I am with affliction Mrs. M. I see enough to satisfy me; she is and fatigue, know where to find a hospitable a perfect beauty-pray, young lady, walk in; door. pray walk up stairs, you are heartily wel come; lack-a-day, you seem piteously fatigu’d. Aug. Indeed I want repose.

Colin. Come with me then, and I will show you one; ah! woe is me, we hanna' all cold hearts, that occupy cold climates: I were a graceless loon indeed, when Providence ha' done so much for me, an I could not pay bock a little to a fellow creature.

Aug. Who you may be I know not; but that sentiment persuades me I may trust you: know, in this wretched person you behold her whom you think the envied, the beloved miss Aubrey.

Colin. Rest you awhile; I'll deliver your letter, and call on you anon. Aug. I thank you.

[Enters the House. Mrs. M. Heavens, what a lovely girl! Colin. Haud you a bit, you've done this kindly, cousin Macintosh, but we're na' come a bagging, d'ye see; here, take this money in your honde, and let her want for nought.

Mrs. M. You may depend upon my care. Colin. Miss Aubrey! you miss Aubrey! His Colin. Ay, ay, I ken'd you for a Macintosh presence be about us! and has that grete fat fellow in the city turn'd his bock upon you? Out on him, ugly hound, his stomach be his grave! I could find in my heart to stick my dirk into his weam.

Aug. Have patience; 'tis not he, lord Abberville's the source of my misfortunes.

at once; I am na' apt to be mistaken in any of your clan; and 'tis a comely presence that you have; troth 'tis the case with aw of you; the Macintoshes are a very personable people.

[Exit.

Mrs. M. Another of my Scottish cousinsOh, this new name of mine is a most thriving invention; a rare device to hook in customers. [Exit.

Colin. Ah, woe the while the more's his shame, I'd rather hear that he were dead. Aug. Do not mistake affliction for disgrace; SCENE II.

I'm innocent.

Colin. I see it in your face: would I could say as much of him.

Ang. You know him then.

Colin. Ay, and his father afore him: Colin Macleod's my name.

Aug. Colin Macleod!

A Room in LORD ABBERVILLE'S
House.

Enter LORD ABBERVILLE, followed by several
Servants.

Lord A. You are a most unreasonable set of gentry truly; I have but one Scotchman in my family, and you are every one of you, cook, valet, butler, up in arms to drive him out of it.

Colin. What do you start at? Troth, there's no shame upon't; 'tis nought a bit the worse for my wear; honesty was aw my patrimony, La Jeu. And with reason, my lord; monand, by my sol, I hanna' spent it: I serve lord sieur Colin is a grand financier; but he has Abberville, but not his vices.

1) Smoothly. 2) Squint (look).

a little of what we call la maladie du pays; you have money enough, if you had but spirit he is too oeconomique; it is not for the credit to make use of it? of mi lord Anglois to be too oeconomique.

Colin. True; but I fain would keep a little Lord A. I think, La Jeunesse, I have been together, d'ye see, lest you should not. [Exit. at some pains to put that out of dispute; but Dr. D. Plessing upon us, how the man prates get you gone all together, and send the fellow and prattles! 'Twas but this morning he was to me; I begin to be as tir'd of him as you differing and disputing truly about pedigrees are.-[Exeunt Servants]-His honesty is my and antiquities, though I can count forty and reproach; these rascals flatter while they rob four generations from the grandmother of St. me: it angers me that one, who has no stake, Winifred, as regularly as a monk can tell no interest in my fortune, should husband it his beads."

more frugally than I who am the owner and Lord A. Leave your generations to the worms, the sufferer: in short, he is the glass in which doctor, and tell me if you carried my message I see myself, and the reflection tortures me; to Bridgemore-But why do I ask that? When my vices have deform'd me; gaming has made

a monster of me.

Enter COLIN.

I myself am come from putting the finishing hand to that treaty: and really if young women will keep companions who are handsomer than themselves, they mustn't wonder if their lovers go astray.

Come hither, Colin; what is this I hear of you? Colin. Saving your presence I should guess Dr. D. Ah, my lord Apperville, my lord a pratty many lies; 'twill mostly be the case Apperville, you've something there to answer for. when companions in office give characters Lord A. Preach not, good sixty-five, thy one of another. cold continence to twenty-three; the stars are Lord A. But what is he whom nobody in my debt one lucky throw at least; let them speaks well of? You are given up on all hands. bestow miss Aubrey, and I'll cancel all that's Colin. And so must truth itsall, when the past. [4 Servant delivers a Letter] What de'il turns historian. have we here?-From Tyrrel I suppose-No, Lord A. You've been applauded for your 'tis from a more peaceable quarter; my combluntness; 'tis no recommendation to me, modious Mrs. Macintosh. [Reads]-Chance Macleod; nor shall I part from all my family has thrown in my way a girl, that quite to accommodate your spleen; from the stable-eclipses your miss Somers: come to me boy to my own valet, there's not a domestic without loss of time, lest the bird should in this house gives you a good word. be on the wing.-What shall I do? I have

Colin. Nor ever will, till I prefer their in- but little stomach to the business. Aubrey is terest to yours; hungry curs will bark: but my goddess, and 'tis downright heresy to an your lordship would have us regale our follow any other. friends below stairs, while you are feasting yours above, gadzooks, I have a pratty many countrymen in town, with better appetites than

Enter another Servant.
Serv. My lord, a person without says he

purses, who will applaud the regulation. comes with a recommendation from sir Harry Lord A. Tis for such purses and such ap-Gamble.

Lord A. What sort of a person?

Serv. A little ugly fellow: I believe he's

petites you would be a fit provider; 'tis for
the latitude of the Highlands, not for the
meridian of London, your narrow scale of a Jew.
economy is laid down.

Lord A. That's right, I had forgot: my Jew

Colin. Economy is no disgrace; 'tis batter is fairly jaded; sir Ilarry's probably is better living on a little, than outliving a great deal. trained; so let me see him: who is in the Lord A. Well, sir, you may be honest, but antichamber? you are troublesome; my family are one and Serv. There are several persons waiting to all in arms against you; and you must know, speak with your lordship; they have called a Colin Macleod, I've great objection to a re- great many times. bellion either in a family or state, whatever you and your countrymen may think of the

matter.

Lord A. Ay, ay, they come for money; he alone comes with it; therefore conduct that little ugly fellow, as you call him, to my closet, Colin. My lord, my lord; whan you have and bid those other people call again. [Exit shad 1) the blude of the offenders, it is na' Servant] Doctor, if any of my particulars generous to revive the offence: as for mine are importunate to see me, don't let 'em interawn particular, heaven be my judge, the realm rupt me here; tell 'em I'm gone to Mrs. Macof England does na' haud a heart more loyal intosh's; they'll know the place, and my buthan the one I strike my honde upon.

Enter DOCTOR DRUID.

siness in it. [Exit. Dr. D. They may guess that without the gift of divination truly: ah! this passion is Lord A. So, doctor, what's the news with the prejudice of education! He may thank you? Well, Colin, let me hear no more of France and Italy for this: I would have carried these complaints; don't be so considerate of him through Ingria, Esthonia, and Livonia; me-and hark'e, if you was not quite so par- through Moldavia, Bessarabia, Bulgaria, Thrace; simonious to yourself, your appearance would from the Gulf of Finland to the Straits of the be all the better. Dardanelles. Tis a chance if he had seen a Colin. Troth, I'd be better habited, but I human creature in the whole course of his canna' afford it. travels.

Lord A. Afford it, sirrah? Don't I know 1) Shed.

Enter TYRREL.

Tyr. Doctor, forgive me this intrusion;

Tyr. Ay, did she say so much? That's

where is lord Abberville? His servants deny
him to me, and I've business with him of a guilty beyond doubt.
pressing sort.

Dr. D. Business indeed!

Tyr. Yes, business, sir: I beg you to inform me where to find him.

Dr. D. I take it, Mr. Tyrrel, you are one of his particulars, therefore I tell you, he is gone to Mrs. Macintosh's; a commodious sort of a pody, who follows one trade in her shop, and another in her parlour.

Tyr. Yes, yes, I know her well, and know his business there.

Dr. D. Pleasure is all his business: I take for granted he finds some gratification in his visits there.

Tyr. Yes, the gratification of a devil; the pleasure of defacing beauty and despoiling innocence, of planting everlasting misery in the human heart for one licentious, transitory joy: 'tis there he holds his riots; thither he is gone to repeat his triumphs over my unhappy Aubrey, and confirm her in her shame.

Dr. D. Ay, I suppose miss Aubrey is the reigning passion now.

Colin. You're right; it carries a damn'd guilty look: I would na' take his fortune to father his faults.

Tyr. Why you then give him up. Oh! 'tis too palpable! But, pray, did she hersel give you this letter for me?

Colin. With her own hondes; gude faith, the heart within you would ha' malted to have seen the manner of it.

Tyr. That aggravates my torture!-Where was it you left her? In what wretched habitation?

Colin. Hoot! no disparagement upon her habitation; there's nought of wretchedness about it: odzooks! she's with a lady of as gude a family!-But you mun be as close as wax, d'ye see; ye munna mang 1) the secret to my laird.

Tyr. Well, well, the place

Colin. Nay, 'tis hard by; a cousin's of mine own; a comely, courteous woman as you'd wish to commune with; one Mrs. Macintosh. Tyr. 'Sdeath! that confirms it! There, sir, Tyr. Curs'd be his passions, wither'd be bring me no more letters: whether you're dupe his powers! Oh, sir, she was an angel once: or pander in this business, I desire never to such was the graceful modesty of her deport- be troubled more. [Exil. ment, it seemed as if the chastity, which now Colin. Hoot! what the fiend possesses you? so many of her sex throw from them, centered What time o'the moon is this? The lad's an all with her. errant bedlamite. There's mischief in the wind;

Dr. D. I've told too much; this lad's as and this same laird of mine is at the bottom mad as he-Well, Mr. Tyrrel, I can say but of it: gadzooks, there goes maister Mortimer; little in the case; women and politics I never I'll tell him aw the case, and take his counsel deal in; in other words, I abhor cuckoldom, on the whole. and have no passion for the pillory. [Exit.

Enter COLIN.

Colin. Gang your gait for an old smokedried piece of goat's-flesh. [Shuts the Door] Now we're alone, young gentleman, there's something for your private reading.

[Delivers a Letter, Tyr. What do I see? Miss Aubrey's hand! Why does she write to me? Distraction, how a this racks my heart.

Colin. Ay, and mine too;-Ecod, it sic a pull, I canna' for the sol of me, back into its place again: gude truth, find it but a melancholy tale.

[Exit.

SCENE III.-MRS. MACINTOSH'S House.

Enter MRS. MACINTOSH and TYRREL. Mrs. M. Well, Mr. Tyrrel, if you must and will be heard, you must; but pray be short, my time is precious.

Tyr. So is my peace of mind: you've got lady in your house has taken that from me I never shall recover.

gave it Mrs. M. What is't you mean? What lady
get it have I in my house?
you'll Tyr. Miss Aubrey.

Tyr. [Reads] I am the martyr of an accident, which never will find credit; under this stroke, I can't conceal a wish that Mr. Tyrrel would not give me up; but, as his single opposition to the world's reproach might be as dangerous to him, as it must be ineffectual to me, I earnestly advise him to forget the unfortunate What am I to conclude? The paper looks

AUGUSTA.

Mrs. M. Miss Aubrey! You mistake; I never heard the name.

Tyr. Come, you and I have long been friends: answer me truly, does not Lord Abberville visit a lady here?

Mrs. M. Well, if he does, what then? Tyr. Why then that lady has undone me; she has broke my heart.

Mrs. M. Yes; but her name's not Aubrey; my lord calls her Somers.

like innocence; the words as soft as modesty Tyr. Let my lord call her what he will, could utter. The martyr of an accident! She coin what new name he pleases to elude my calls it accident; why that's no crime. Alas! search, still I must see her.

it might be accident which threw temptation Mrs. M. VVhy you're mad sure to think of in her way, but voluntary guilt which yielded such a thing; I thought you knew me better: to the tempter; of him she makes no mention. violate a trust? No, no, young man, that's Pray, sir, inform me; you have seen this lady-not my principle; you see no lady here

Colin. I have.

Tyr. Discours'd with her

Colin. I have.

Tyr. In that discourse, do you recollect if she named lord Abberville?

Colin. I recollect she said he was the source of her misfortunes.

Why, sure, I've not maintained an honourable character in the world till now, to make away with it at last.

Tyr. If you suspect me, stay and be present

at our conference.

Mrs. M. Yes, and so have my lord come in

1) Tell.