_Falk._ Well, I shall be glad to see your daughter; but she must not marry this lord.
_Sir W._ Hey! oh yes! but who do you mean! Charles Austencourt? (_opening the door._)
_Falk._ (_aloud, and striking the floor with his stick._) Ay, Charles Austencourt!
_Charles_ (_entering._) Here am I. Who calls?
Helen _and_ Tiffany _come forward, and_ Tiffany _goes off._
_Lady W._ Ah Heavens defend me! what do I behold?
_Falk._ Why, is this the surprise you promised me? The astonishment seems general. Pray, sir Willoughby, explain this puppet show!
_Lady W._ Ay! pray sir Willoughby explain--
_Helen._ I told you how it would be, papa, and you would not believe me!
_Sir W._ So! pray, sir, condescend to inform lady Worret and me, how you introduced yourself into that most extraordinary situation.
_Charles._ Sir, I shall make no mystery of it, nor attempt to screen you from her ladyship's just reproaches, by concealing one atom of the truth. The fact is, madam, that sir Willoughby not only in my hearing, gave Miss Helen his unrestricted permission to throw herself into my arms, but actually forced her into the room where I was quietly seated, and positively and deliberately lock'd us in together!
_Sir W._ I've heard of matchless impudence, but curse me if this isn't the paragon of the species! Zounds! I'm in a wonderful passion! Daughter, I am resolved to have this affair explained to my satisfaction.
_Helen._ You _may_ have it explained, papa, but I fear it won't be to your _satisfaction_.
_Charles._ No, sir, nor to her ladyship's either, and now, as my situation here is not remarkably agreeable I take my leave: madam, your most obedient, and sir Willoughby, the next time you propose an agreeable surprise for your friends--
_Sir W._ Harkye sir, how you came into my house I can't tell, but if you don't presently walk out of it.
_Charles._ I say, I heartily hope that you may accomplish your purpose.
_Charles._ Without finding yourself the most astonished of the party! [_Exit._
_Sir W._ Thank heaven my house is rid of him.
_Lady W._ As usual, sir Willoughby, a precious business you've made of this!
_Sir W._ Death and furies, my Lady Worret--
_Falk._ Gently, my old friend, gently: I'm one too many here during these little domestic discussions; but before I go, on two points let me caution you; let your daughter choose her own husband if you wish her to have one without leaping out of the window to get at him; and be master of your own house and your own wife if you do not wish to continue, what you now are, the laughing-stock of all your acquaintance.-- [_Exit._