e no daughter to provide for now!

_Pereg._ Then he misinform'd me.

_Job._ No, he didn't. I had one last night; but she's gone.

_Pereg._ Gone!

_Job._ Yes; gone to sea, for what I know, as you did. Run away from
a good father, as you did.--This is a morning to remember;--my
daughter has run out, and the bailiffs have run in;--I shan't soon
forget the day of the month.

_Pereg._ This morning, did you say?

_Job._ Aye, before day-break;--a hard-hearted, base----

_Pereg._ And could she leave you, during the derangement of your
affairs?

_Job._ She did'nt know what was going to happen, poor soul! I wish
she had now. I don't think my Mary would have left her old father in
the midst of his misfortunes.

_Pereg._ [_Aside._] Mary! it must be she! What is the amount of the
demands upon you?

_Job._ Six thousand. But I don't mind that: the goods can nearly
cover it--let 'em take 'em--damn the gridirons and warming-pans!--I
could begin again--but, now, my Mary's gone, I hav'n't the heart;
but I shall hit upon something.

_Pereg._ Let me make a proposal to you, my old friend. Permit me to
settle with the officers, and to clear all demands upon you. Make it
a debt, if you please. I will have a hold, if it must be so, on your
future profits in trade; but do this, and I promise to restore your
daughter to you.

_Job._ What? bring back my child! Do you know where she is? Is she
safe? Is she far off? Is----

_Pereg._ Will you receive the money?

_Job._ Yes, yes; on those terms--on those conditions. But where is
Mary?

_Pereg._ Patience. I must not tell you yet; but, in four-and-twenty
hours, I pledge myself to bring her back to you.

_Job._ What, here? to her father's house? and safe? Oh, 'sbud! when
I see her safe, what a thundering passion I'll be in with her! But
you are not deceiving me? You know, the first time you came into my
shop, what a bouncer you told me, when you were a boy.

_Pereg._ Believe me, I would not trifle with you now. Come, come
down to your shop, that we may rid it of its present visitants.

_Job._ I believe you dropt from the clouds, all on a sudden, to
comfort an old, broken-hearted brazier.

_Pereg._ I rejoice, my honest friend, that I arrived at so critical
a juncture; and, if the hand of Providence be in it, 'tis because
Heaven ordains, that benevolent actions, like yours, sooner or
later, must ever meet their recompense. [_Exeunt._

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