_Skin._ Here, Lucy, tye up me Affairs; they are loose and falling about my Heels. _Lucy._ They are always loose, I think. _Skin._ Lucy, did not I send for Monsieur du Maigre, the Apothecary? _Lucy._ Yes Sir, and he will be here presently. (_Knocking_) Hark, this is he I suppose. _Skin._ Go see; if it is, send him up. (_Exit Lucy_) What an insupportable Vexation Riches are; all my Relations are watching and hovering about me like so many Crows about a dead Carrion; even Bellair, who behaves the best of them all, has a Hawk's Eye, I see, after my Will and advises me in a sly indirect manner to the making of it. A Parent is used by an Heir just as a Virgin is by a Rake; before we have parted with our Treasure, we are adored, we are Gods and Goddesses, but as soon as that is over, we become as troublesome to them as an evil Conscience. I'll keep my money to save my poor Soul, for to be sure I have got a great deal of it in an unfair manner; therefore in order to make my Peace hereafter, I'll leave it to build an Almshouse. (_Enter_ LUCY) _Lucy._ Sir, there's a Lady in deep Mourning below, who says she is your Niece. _Skin._ If she is such a Canary Bird as her Brother that was here today, she may go to the Devil; however shew her up. (_Exit Lucy_) She may be the reverse of him; we ought not to condemn a whole Family for one bad Person. (_Enter_ LUCY, _showing in_ SHARK _who is dressed in Weeds_) _Lucy._ Madam, this is your Uncle. _Shar._ Sir, I have not the Honour to be known to you, but the Report of your Death has brought me to Town, to testify the Duty and Affection of an unworthy Niece for the best of Uncles. _Skin._ A good well bred kind of a Woman. (_Aside to Lucy_) Ay, this is something like a Relation. _Lucy._ I shall hear you sing another tune presently. (_Aside_) _Skin._ Pray Niece, give me leave to salute you. You are welcome to London. (_Kisses him_) My Eyes are but bad--yet I think I can discover a strong Resemblance of my Sister in you. (_Peering in his Face_) _Shar._ Yes Sir, I was reckoned very like my Mama before I was married, but frequent Child bearing you know, Sir, will alter a Woman strangely for the worse. _Skin._ It will so, Niece; you are a Widow I perceive. _Shar._ Yes Sir, an unfortunate Widow (_Weeps_). I never had a dry Eye since my Husband died. _Skin._ Pray Niece, what did your Husband die of? _Shar._ He broke his Neck a Fox Hunting. _Skin._ Good lack, good lack! That was dreadful. _Shar._ Ay Sir, and tho' I was but one and twenty when he died, he left me both a Widow and a Mother; so early a Grief you may be sure must have robbed me of my Bloom and has broke me mightily. _Skin._ As you were a Widow, Niece, at one and twenty, I don't suppose your Husband left you many Children. _Shar._ Fifteen, Sir. _Skin._ Fifteen, Niece! (_Starting_) _Shar._ Ay, fifteen, Sir; I was married at fourteen. _Skin._ That was very young, Niece.