_Coup._ I'gad, Sirrah, I cou'd help thee to do him almost as good a turn, without the danger of being burnt in the Hand for't. _Young Fash._ Say'st thou so, old Satan? Shew me but that, and my Soul is thine. _Coup._ Pox o'thy Soul! give me thy warm Body, Sirrah; I shall have a substantial Title to't when I tell thee my Project. _Young Fash._ Out with it then, dear Dad, and take possession as soon as thou wilt. _Coup._ Sayest thou so, my _Hephestion_? Why, then, thus lies the Scene: but hold; who's that? If we are heard we are undone. _Young Fash._ What have you forgot _Lory_? _Coup._ Who, trusty _Lory_, is it thee? _Lory._ At your Service, Sir. _Coup._ Give me thy Hand, old Boy; I'gad I did not know thee again; but I remember thy Honesty, tho' I did not thy Face; I think thou hadst like to have been hang'd once or twice for thy Master. _Lory._ Sir, I was very near once having that Honour. _Coup._ Well, live and hope; don't be discourag'd; eat with him, and drink with him, and do what he bids thee, and it may be thy Reward at last, as well as another's. _To Young Fash._] Well, Sir, you must know I have done you the Kindness to make up a Match for your Brother. _Young Fash._ I am very much beholden to you, truly. _Coup._ You may be, Sirrah, before the Wedding-day yet; the Lady is a great Heiress; fifteen hundred Pound a year, and a great Bag of Money; the Match is concluded, the Writings are drawn, and the Pipkin's to be crack'd in a Fortnight--Now you must know, Stripling (with Respect to your Mother), your Brother's the Son of a Whore. _Young Fash._ Good. _Coup._ He has given me a Bond of a Thousand Pounds for helping him to this Fortune, and has promis'd me as much more in ready Money upon the Day of Marriage; which, I understand by a Friend, he ne'er designs to pay me; if therefore you will be a generous young Dog, and secure me five thousand Pounds, I'll be a covetous old Rogue, and help you to the Lady. _Young Fash._ I'gad, if thou can'st bring this about, I'll have thy Statue cast in Brass. But don't you doat, you old Pandar you, when you talk at this rate? _Coup._ That your youthful Parts shall judge of: This plump Partridge, that I tell you of, lives in the Country, fifty Miles off, with her honoured Parents, in a lonely old House which nobody comes near; she never goes abroad, nor sees Company at home: To prevent all Misfortunes, she has her Breeding within Doors, the Parson of the Parish teaches her to play on the Bass-Viol, the Clerk to sing, her Nurse to dress, and her Father to dance: In short, nobody can give you admittance there but I; nor can I do it any other way, than by making you pass for your Brother. _Young Fash._ And how the Devil wilt thou do that?