_Young Fash._ Very well. [_Aside._] Here's a rare Fellow for you, to have the spending of Five Thousand Pounds a-year. But now for my Business with him. [_To Lord Fop._] Brother, tho' I know to talk of Business (especially of Money) is a Theme not quite so entertaining to you as that of the Ladies, my Necessities are such, I hope you'll have patience to hear me. _Lord Fop._ The greatness of your Necessities, _Tam_, is the worst Argument in the Warld far your being patiently heard. I do believe you are going to make a very good Speech, but, strike me dumb, it has the worst beginning of any Speech I have heard this Twelvemonth. _Young Fash._ I'm very sorry you think so. _Lord Fop._ I do believe thou art. But come, let's know thy Affair quickly; for 'tis a new Play, and I shall be so rumpled and squeezed with pressing thro' the Crawd, to get to my Servant, the Women will think I have lain all Night in my Clothes. _Young Fash._ Why then (that I may not be the Author of so great a Misfortune) my Case in a Word is this: The necessary Expences of my Travels have so much exceeded the wretched Income of my Annuity, that I have been forced to mortgage it for Five Hundred Pounds, which is spent; so that unless you are so kind to assist me in redeeming it, I know no Remedy but to take a Purse. _Lord Fop._ Why, Faith, _Tam_----to give you my Sense of the thing, I do think taking a Purse the best Remedy in the Warld; for if you succeed, you are reliev'd that way; if you are taken----you are reliev'd t'other. _Young Fash._ I'm glad to see you are in so pleasant a Humour, I hope I shall find the Effects on't. _Lord Fop._ Why, do you then really think it a reasonable thing I should give you Five Hundred Paunds? _Young Fash._ I do not ask it as a Due, Brother, I am willing to receive it as a Favour. _Lord Fop._ Thau art willing to receive it any haw, strike me speechless. But these are damn'd times to give Money in: Taxes are so great, Repairs so exorbitant, Tenants such Rogues, and Perriwigs so dear, that the Devil take me, I'm reduc'd to that extremity in my Cash, I have been farc'd to retrench in that one Article of sweet Pawder, till I have braught it dawn to Five Guineas a Manth. Naw judge, _Tam_, whether I can spare you Five hundred Paunds? _Young Fash._ If you can't, I must starve, that's all, [_Aside._] Damn him. _Lord Fop._ All I can say is, you should have been a better Husband. _Young Fash._ 'Oons, if you can't live upon five thousand a-year, how do you think I should do't upon two hundred? _Lord Fop._ Don't be in a Passion, _Tam_; far Passion is the most unbecoming thing in the Warld----to the Face. Look you, I don't love to say any thing to you to make you melancholy; but upon this occasion I must take leave to put you in mind, that a Running Horse does require more Attendance, than a Coach-Horse. Nature has made some difference 'twixt you and I. _Young Fash._ Yes, she has made you older. [_Aside._] Pox take her.