ile they live,
and beggar their heirs, by getting legacies, when they die. And do you
think I'll be the receiver of your theft? I discharge my conscience of
it: Here, take again your filthy mammon, and restore it, you had best,
to the true owners.

_Muf._ I am finely documented by my own daughter!

_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 l