_Cler. Sen._ Why, sir, what I would say is in behalf of my brother, the Captain, here, whose misfortune it is that I was born before him. _Pounce._ I am confident he had rather you should have been so than any other man in England. _Cler._ You do me justice, Mr. Pounce, but though 'tis to that gentleman, I am still a younger brother, and you know we that are so, are generally condemned to shops, colleges, or inns of court. _Pounce._ But you, sir, have escaped 'em, you have been trading in the noble mart of glory. _Cler._ That's true. But the general makes such haste to finish the war, that we red coats may be soon out of fashion; and then I am a fellow of the most easy indolent disposition in the world! I hate all manner of business. _Pounce._ A composed temper, indeed! _Cler._ In such a case I should have no way of livelihood, but calling over this gentleman's dogs in the country, drinking his stale beer to the neighbourhood, or marrying a fortune. _Cler. Sen._ To be short, Pounce--I am putting Jack upon marriage, and you are so public an envoy, or rather plenipotentiary, from the very different nations of Cheapside, Covent Garden, and St. James's; you have, too, the mien and language of each place so naturally, that you are the properest instrument I know in the world, to help an honest young fellow to favour in one of 'em, by credit in the other. _Pounce._ By what I understand of your many prefaces, gentlemen, the purpose of all this is, that it would not in the least discompose this gentleman's easy indolent disposition to fall into twenty thousand pounds, though it came upon him never so suddenly. _Cler._ You are a very discerning man; how could you see so far through me, as to know I love a fine woman, pretty equipage, good company, and a clean habitation? _Pounce._ Well, though I am so much a conjurer--what then? _Cler. Sen._ You know a certain person, into whose hands you now and then recommend a young heir, to be relieved from the vexation of tenants, taxes, and so forth---- _Pounce._ What! My worthy friend and city patron Hezekiah Tipkin, banker in Lombard Street; would the noble Captain lay any sums in his hands? _Cler._ No; but the noble Captain would have treasure out of his hands. You know his niece? _Pounce._ To my knowledge ten thousand pounds in money. _Cler._ Such a stature, such a blooming countenance, so easy a shape! _Pounce._ In jewels of her grandmother's five thousand. _Cler._ Her wit so lively, her mien so alluring! _Pounce._ In land a thousand a year. _Cler._ Her lips have that certain prominence, that swelling softness that they invite to a pressure; her eyes that languish, that they give pain, though they look only inclined to rest; her whole person that one charm---- _Pounce._ Raptures! Raptures!