_Marpl._ Oh, the Devil, if he gets out before me, I shall lose him agen. Sir _Fran._ Ay, Sir, and you may be marching as soon as you please--I must see a Change in your Temper e'er you find one in mine. _Marpl._ Pray, Sir, dispatch me; the Money, Sir, I'm in mighty haste. Sir _Fran._ Fool, take this and go to the Cashier; I sha'n't be long plagu'd with thee. (_Gives him a Note._ _Marpl._ Devil take the Cashier, I shall certainly have _Charles_ gone before I come back agen. (_Runs out._ _Char._ Well, Sir, I take my Leave--But remember, you Expose an only Son to all the Miseries of wretched Poverty, which too often lays the Plan for Scenes of Mischief. Sir _Fran._ Stay, _Charles_, I have a sudden Thought come into my Head, may prove to thy Advantage. _Char._ Ha, does he Relent? Sir _Fran._ My Lady _Wrinkle_, worth Forty Thousand Pound, sets up for a Handsome young Husband; she prais'd thee t'other Day; tho' the Match-makers can get Twenty Guinea's for a sight of her, I can introduce thee for nothing. _Char._ My Lady _Wrinkle_, Sir, why she has but one Eye. Sir _Fran._ Then she'll see but half your Extravagance, Sir. _Char._ Condemn me to such a piece of Deformity! Toothless, Dirty, Wry-neck'd, Hunch-back'd Hag. Sir _Fran._ Hunch-back'd! so much the better, then she has a Rest for her Misfortunes; for thou wilt Load her swingingly. Now I warrant you think, this is no Offer of a Father; Forty Thousand Pound is nothing with you. _Char._ Yes, Sir, I think it is too much; a young Beautiful Woman with half the Money wou'd be more agreeable. I thank you, Sir; but you Chose better for your self, I find. Sir _Fran._ Out of my Doors, you Dog; you pretend to meddle with my Marriage, Sirrah. _Char._ Sir, I obey: But-- Sir _Fran._ But me no Buts--Be gone, Sir: Dare to ask me for Money agen--Refuse Forty Thousand Pound! Out of my Doors, I say, without Reply. (_Exit _Char_._ _Enter Servant._ _Serv._ One Sir _George Airy_ enquires for you, Sir. _Enter _Marplot_ Running._ _Marpl._. Ha? gone! Is _Charles_ gone, Guardian? Sir _Fran._ Yes; and I desire your wise Worship to walk after him. _Marpl._ Nay, Egad, I shall Run, I tell you but that. Ah, Pox of the Cashier for detaining me so long, where the Devil shall I find him now. I shall certainly lose this Secret. (_Exit, hastily._ Sir _Fran._ What is the Fellow distracted?--Desire Sir _George_ to walk up--Now for a Tryal of Skill that will make me Happy, and him a Fool: Ha, ha, ha, in my Mind he looks like an Ass already. _Enter Sir _George_._ Sir _Fran._ Well, Sir _George_, Dee ye hold in the same Mind? or wou'd you Capitulate? Ha, ha, ha: Look, here are the Guinea's, (_Chinks them._) Ha, ha, ha.