_Colonel S._ Come, come, don't be mercenary; take example by your lady, be honourable. _Parly._ A-lack-a-day, sir, it shows as ridiculous and haughty for us to imitate our betters in their honour, as in their finery; leave honour to nobility that can support it: we poor folks, Colonel, have no pretence to't; and truly, I think, sir, that your honour should be cashiered with your leading-staff. _Colonel S._ 'Tis one of the greatest curses of poverty to be the jest of chambermaids! _Enter_ LUREWELL. _Lady L._ Here's the packet, Colonel; the whole magazine of love's artillery. [_Gives him the Packet._ _Colonel S._ Which, since I have gained, I will turn upon the enemy. Madam, I'll bring you the news of my victory this evening. Poor Sir Harry, ha! ha! ha! [_Exit._ _Lady L._ To the right about as you were; march, Colonel. Ha! ha! ha! Vain man, who boasts of studied parts and wiles! Nature in us, your deepest art beguiles, Stamping deep cunning in our frowns and smiles. You toil for art, your intellects you trace; Woman, without a thought, bears policy in her face. [_Exeunt._ ACT THE SECOND. SCENE I. CLINCHER JUNIOR'S _Lodgings_. _Enter_ CLINCHER JUNIOR, _opening a Letter_; SERVANT _following_. _Clinch. jun._ [Reads.] _Dear Brother--I will see you presently: I have sent this lad to wait on you; he can instruct you in the fashions of the town. I am your affectionate brother_, CLINCHER. Very well; and what's your name, sir? _Dicky._ My name is Dicky, sir. _Clinch. jun._ Dicky! _Dicky._ Ay, Dicky, sir. _Clinch. jun._ Very well; a pretty name! And what can you do, Mr. Dicky? _Dicky._ Why, sir, I can powder a wig, and pick up a whore. _Clinch. jun._ Oh, lord! Oh, lord! a whore! Why, are there many in this town? _Dicky._ Ha! ha! ha! many! there's a question, indeed!----Harkye, sir; do you see that woman there, in the pink cloak and white feathers. _Clinch. jun._ Ay, sir! what then? _Dicky._ Why, she shall be at your service in three minutes, as I'm a pimp. _Clinch. jun._ Oh, Jupiter Ammon! Why, she's a gentlewoman. _Dicky._ A gentlewoman! Why so they are all in town, sir. _Enter_ CLINCHER _senior_. _Clinch. sen._ Brother, you're welcome to London. _Clinch. jun._ I thought, brother, you owed so much to the memory of my father, as to wear mourning for his death. _Clinch. sen._ Why, so I do, fool; I wear this, because I have the estate; and you wear that, because you have not the estate. You have cause to mourn, indeed, brother. Well, brother, I'm glad to see you; fare you well. [_Going._ _Clinch. jun._ Stay, stay, brother.----Where are you going? _Clinch. sen._ How natural 'tis for a country booby to ask impertinent questions!--Harkye, sir; is not my father dead? _Clinch. jun._ Ay, ay, to my sorrow.