LORD FOPPINGTON. Faith, Tam, I must beg you’ll excuse me at this time, for I have an engagement which I would not break for the salvation of mankind.—Hey!—there!—is my carriage at the door? You’ll excuse me, brother. [_Going_.] TOM FASHION. Shall you be back to dinner? LORD FOPPINGTON. As Gad shall jedge me, I can’t tell; for it is passible I may dine with some friends at Donner’s. TOM FASHION. Shall I meet you there? For I must needs talk with you. LORD FOPPINGTON. That I’m afraid mayn’t be quite so praper; for those I commonly eat with are people of nice conversation; and you know, Tam, your education has been a little at large.—But there are other ordinaries in town—very good beef ordinaries—I suppose, Tam, you can eat beef?—However, dear Tam, I’m glad to see thee in England, stap my vitals! [_Exit_, LA VAROLE _following_.] TOM FASHION. Hell and furies! is this to be borne? LORY. Faith, sir, I could almost have given him a knock o’ the pate myself. TOM FASHION. ’Tis enough; I will now show you the excess of my passion, by being very calm.—Come, Lory, lay your loggerhead to mine, and, in cold blood, let us contrive his destruction. LORY. Here comes a head, sir, would contrive it better than both our loggerheads, if she would but join in the confederacy. TOM FASHION. By this light, Madam Coupler! she seems dissatisfied at something: let us observe her. _Enter_ MRS. COUPLER. MRS. COUPLER. So! I am likely to be well rewarded for my services, truly; my suspicions, I find, were but too just. What! refuse to advance me a petty sum, when I am upon the point of making him master of a galleon! but let him look to the consequences; an ungrateful, narrow-minded coxcomb. TOM FASHION. So he is, upon my soul, old lady; it must be my brother you speak of. MRS. COUPLER. Ha! stripling, how came you here? What, hast spent all, eh? And art thou come to dun his lordship for assistance? TOM FASHION. No, I want somebody’s assistance to cut his lordship’s throat, without the risk of being hanged for him. MRS. COUPLER. Egad, sirrah, I could help thee to do him almost as good a turn, without the danger of being burned in the hand for’t. TOM FASHION. How—how, old mischief? MRS. COUPLER. Why, you must know I have done you the kindness to make up a match for your brother. TOM FASHION. I am very much beholden to you, truly! MRS. COUPLER. You may be before the wedding-day, yet: the lady is a great heiress, the match is concluded, the writings are drawn, and his lordship is come hither to put the finishing hand to the business. TOM FASHION. I understand as much. MRS. COUPLER. Now, you must know, stripling, your brother’s a knave. TOM FASHION. Good.