_Skin._ I should be very ill indeed, Madam, if such powerful Eyes as yours could not give me new Life. (_Bowing very low_) _Har._ O Sir, your Servant. (_Curtsying very low_) _Lad._ Very gallant indeed, Sir. _Skin._ Yes, Madam, you will be a Medea's Kettle to me from [whence] I shall receive new Vigour. Your Charms will be a vivifying Nostrum to the morbific parts, which Infirmity and Age have laid hold of. You will be an Inlap to my Heart--and my Marriage will be an infallible Specific which I shall take as my last Remedy.--Give me a little of that Cordial. _Har._ Sir, whatever commands my Lady thinks proper to lay on me, I shall think it my Duty to give them an implicit Obedience. (_She curtsies all the while. Skin. bows_) _Lad._ You see, Sir Isaac, my Daughter is entirely directed by my Will; so if you are ready to fulfill the Agreement, that is to settle a thousand pounds a year on her during your own Life, and your whole Fortune in Reversion upon your Decease, she is ready to marry you. _Skin._ Madam, I am as ready as she, and have given orders to my Lawyer to draw up the Articles for that purpose with the utmost Expedition, and I expect them to be brought every moment ready to sign. _Lad._ Then, Harriet, I will leave you here, Child, while I call upon my Lawyer in Lincoln's Inn, who is to peruse the Writings.--Mrs. Lucy, pray will you let one of your Men order my Coach up to the Door. (_Exit Lucy_) Sir Isaac Skinflint, your Servant. Mr. Bellair, yours. (_Exit_) _Skin._ [To Harriet] Come Madam, let not these naughty Flannels disgust you; I can pull 'em off upon--um--ahu--certain Occasions. I shall look better in a few days. _Har._ Better! That's impossible, Sir, you can't look better. _Skin._ O Lord, Madam! (_Bowing_) _Har._ (_Takes him by the hand_) There, there's a Figure; do but view him. Sir, I never saw a finer Figure for a Shroud and Coffin in my Life. _Skin._ Madam! (_starting_) _Har._ I say, Sir, you are a most enchanting Figure for a Shroud and Coffin. _Skin._ Shroud and Coffin! (_He walks off! She after him_) _Har._ Well I can't help admiring your Intrepidity, Sir Isaac; o' my Conscience, you have more Courage than half the young Fellows in Town. Why what a Don Quixot are you to venture that shattered, shabby, crazy Carcass of yours into a Marriage Bed with a hale Constitution of Nineteen! _Skin._ Why really, Madam---- _Har._ Why really, Sir, you'll repent it. _Skin._ I believe it, I believe it, Madam. _Har._ What you, who are a gouty, cholicky, feverish, paralytick, hydropic, asthmatic, and a thousand Diseases besides, venture to light Hymen's Torch! Why, Sir, it is perfect Madness; it is making but one Step from your Wedding to your Grave. Pray Sir, how long do you expect to live? _Skin._ Not long I am sure if I marry you.