Mary Price; or, The Adventures of a Servant Girl — page 28: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

SC. 11. ] MARY PRICE. 25 Lorp H. Profit by the terrible lesson you have received. JEMIMA. Ah! that I will. Lorp H. You are now forgiven. JEMIMA. Thank you, my lord. Oh! I am so pleased; but I shan’t be quite happy till I have had a good cry—oh, oh! Exit, 8., crying, and with the child. Lorp H. And now—for these gipsies. Mary. We are no gipsies, my lord. Lorp H. Indeed! who and what then are you? Mary. I am— (throwing off hat and cloak) behold! LAapy H. Ah! (embracing her) Dear, faithful Mary ! Tom. (also throwing off his disguise) And I am poor Tommy. Won’t be gipsy no longer: the dear little babby’s saved, and that’s enough. You won't lose her again, I hope—not likely, not likely. LADY H. Mary, I cannot find words to express my admira- tion of your noble conduct. MARY. (pointing to Tommy) To this poor fellow, who is termed an idiot, you owe the restoration of your child. He traced the gipsy to her rendezvous, and laid the plan for the recovery of the dear innocent. I accompanied him to the abode of wretchedness and vice, secured our prize, and brought her home in safety to her fond mother’s arms. LApY H. For which heaven will bless you. (#0 Lorp H.) And our eternal gratitude Lorp H. (crossing to MAry) And in the first place, a bank note, Mary, for one hundred pounds—the offered reward Mary. (taking note) Is it mine, to dispose of as I think proper ? LAapy H. Certainly. Mary. (to Tommy) A word with you, poor Tommy. Suppose you had a hundred sovereigns, what would you do with them ? Tommy. Oh! Tommy buy a great big waggon full of lucifer matches, and make his fortune, and then poor Tommy never come to the workhouse—not likely, not likely. Mary. Then here is the money for you. LADY H. Mary! Lorp H. Noble, generous girl! Tom. A hundred sovereigns!—this bit of paper one hundred canary birds! ‘Tommy got a good strong cage to put ’em in. (puts the bank note into a tobacco box, which he deposits in his pocket) 'Thank you, my lord, and my lady, and Mary too. Poor Tommy now be one day Lord Mayor of London, with a hundred canary birds in his cage. If they offer to make him Mayor of Ashford, he wouldn’t accept the office—not likely, not likely, Mary, I will now, if you will permit me, see this poor C CoOnniclbookxs (C©@