_Handy, jun._ At present, my love, no more. [_Exit_ Susan, _followed by_ ASHFIELD. _Sir Abel._ What were you saying, sir, to that young woman? _Handy, jun._ Nothing particular, sir. Where is Lady Handy going? _Sir Abel._ To dress. _Handy, jun._ I suppose she has found out the use of money. _Sir Abel._ Yes; I'll do her the justice to say she encourages trade.--Why, do you know, Bob, my best coal pit won't find her in white muslins--round her neck hangs an hundred acres at least; my noblest oaks have made wigs for her; my fat oxen have dwindled into Dutch pugs, and white mice; my India bonds are transmuted into shawls and otto of roses; and a magnificent mansion has shrunk into a diamond snuff-box. _Enter_ COUNTRYMAN. _Coun._ Gentlemen, the folks be all got together, and the ploughs be ready--and---- _Sir Abel._ We are coming. [_Exit_ SERVANT. _Handy, jun._ Ploughs? _Sir Abel._ Yes, Bob, we are going to have a grand agricultural meeting. _Handy, jun._ Indeed! _Sir Abel._ If I could but find a man able to manage my new-invented _curricle_ plough, none of them would have a chance. _Handy, jun._ My dear sir, if there be any thing on earth I can do, it is that. _Sir Abel._ What! _Handy._ I rather fancy I can plough better than any man in England. _Sir Abel._ You don't say so! What a clever fellow he is! I say, Bob, if you would-- _Handy, jun._ No! I can't condescend. _Sir Abel._ Condescend! why not?--much more creditable, let me tell you, than gallopping a maggot for a thousand, or eating a live cat, or any other fashionable achievement. _Handy, jun._ So it is--Egad! I will--I'll carry off the prize of industry. _Sir Abel._ But should you lose, Bob. _Handy, jun._ I lose! that's vastly well! _Sir Abel._ True, with my curricle plough you could hardly fail. _Handy, jun._ With my superior skill, Dad--Then, I say, how the newspapers will teem with the account. _Sir Abel._ Yes. _Handy, jun._ That universal genius, Handy, junior, with a plough---- _Sir Abel._ Stop--invented by that ingenious machinist, Handy, senior. _Handy, jun._ Gained the prize against the first husbandmen in Hampshire--Let our Bond-street butterflies emulate the example of Handy, junior.-- _Sir Abel._ And let old city grubs cultivate the field of science, like Handy, senior--Ecod! I am so happy! _Lady H._ [_Without._] Sir Abel! _Sir Abel._ Ah! there comes a damper. _Handy, jun._ Courage! you have many resources of happiness. _Sir Abel._ Have I? I should be very glad to know them. _Handy, jun._ In the first place you possess an excellent temper. _Sir Abel._ So much the worse; for if I had a bad one, I should be the better able to conquer hers. _Handy, jun._ You enjoy good health-- _Sir Abel._ So much the worse; for if I were ill, she wouldn't come near me. _Handy, jun._ Then you are rich--