_Shuff._ We never do, now;--fortune's every thing. We say, "a good match," at the west end of the town, as they say "a good man," in the city;--the phrase refers merely to money. Is she rich? _Sir Simon._ Four thousand a-year. _Shuff._ What a devilish desirable woman! Frank's a happy dog! _Sir Simon._ He's a miserable puppy. He has no more notion, my dear Tom, of a modern "good match," than Eve had of pin money. _Shuff._ What are his objections to it? _Sir Simon._ I have smoked him; but he doesn't know that;--a silly, sly amour, in another quarter. _Shuff._ An amour! That's a very unfashionable reason for declining matrimony. _Sir Simon._ You know his romantic flights. The blockhead, I believe, is so attach'd, I shou'dn't wonder if he flew off at a tangent, and married the girl that has bewitch'd him. _Shuff._ Who is she? _Sir Simon._ She--hem!--she lives with her father, in Penzance. _Shuff._ And who is he? _Sir Simon._ He----upon my soul I'm asham'd to tell you. _Shuff._ Don't be asham'd; we never blush at any thing, in the New School. _Sir Simon._ Damn me, my dear Tom, if he isn't a brazier! _Shuff._ The devil! _Sir Simon._ A dealer in kitchen candlesticks, coal skuttles, coppers, and cauldrons. _Shuff._ And is the girl pretty? _Sir Simon._ So they tell me;--a plump little devil, as round as a tea kettle. _Shuff._ I'll be after the brazier's daughter, to-morrow. _Sir Simon._ But you have weight with him. Talk to him, my dear Tom--reason with him; try your power, Tom, do! _Shuff._ I don't much like plotting with the father against the son--that's reversing the New School, Baronet. _Sir Simon._ But it will serve Frank: it will serve me, who wish to serve you. And to prove that I do wish it, I have been keeping something in embryo for you, my dear Tom Shuffleton, against your arrival. _Shuff._ For me? _Sir Simon._ When you were last leaving us, if you recollect, you mention'd, in a kind of a way, a--a sort of an intention of a loan, of an odd five hundred pounds. _Shuff._ Did I? I believe I might.--When I intend to raise money, I always give my friends the preference. _Sir Simon._ I told you I was out of cash then, I remember. _Shuff._ Yes: that's just what I told you, I remember. _Sir Simon._ I have the sum floating by me, now, and much at your service. [_Presenting it._ _Shuff._ Why, as it's lying idle, Baronet, I--I--don't much care if I employ it. [_Taking it._ _Sir Simon._ Use your interest with Frank, now. _Shuff._ Rely on me.--Shall I give you my note? _Sir Simon._ No, my dear Tom, that's an unnecessary trouble. _Shuff._ Why that's true--with one who knows me so well as you. _Sir Simon._ Your verbal promise to pay, is quite as good. _Shuff._ I'll see if Frank's stirring. [_Going._ _Sir Simon._ And I must talk to my steward. [_Going._ _Shuff._ Baronet! _Sir Simon._ [_Returning._] Eh?