_Wild_. That Uncle of mine pimps for all the Sparks of his Party; There they all meet and bargain without Scandal: Fops of all sorts and sizes you may chuse, Whig-land offers not such another Market. _Enter_ Closet. _Clos_. Madam, here’s Sir _Timothy Treat-all_ come to wait on your Ladyship to Supper. _Wild_. My Uncle! Oh, damn him, he was born to be my Plague: not-- Disinheriting me had not been so great a Disappointment; and if he sees me here, I ruin all the Plots I’ve laid for him. Ha, he’s here. _Enter Sir_ Tim. Sir _Tim_. How, my Nephew Thomas here! _Wild_. Madam, I find you can be cruel too, Knowing my Uncle has abandon’d me. Sir _Tim_. How now, Sir, what’s your Business here? _Wild_. I came to beg a Favour of my Lady _Galliard_, Sir, knowing her Power and Quality here in the City. Sir _Tim_. How a Favour of my Lady _Galliard_! The Rogue said indeed he would cuckold me. [_Aside_.] Why, Sir, I thought you had been taken up with your rich Heiress? _Wild_. That was my Business now, Sir: Having in my possession the Daughter and Heir of Sir _Nicholas Gett-all_, I would have made use of the Authority of my Lady _Galliard’s_ House to have secur’d her, till I got things in order for our Marriage; but my Lady, to put me off, cries I have an Uncle. L. _Gal_. A well contrived Lye. [_Aside_. Sir _Tim_. Well, I have heard of your good Fortune; and however a Reprobate thou hast been, I’ll not shew my self so undutiful an Uncle, as not to give the Gentlewoman a little House-room: I heard indeed she was gone a week ago, And, Sir, my House is at your Service. _Wild_. I humbly thank you, Sir. Madam, your Servant. A pox upon him and his Association. [_Goes out_. Sir _Tim_. Come, Madam, my Coach waits below. [_Exit_. ACT III. SCENE I. _A Room_. _Enter Sir_ Timothy Treat-all, _and_ Jervice. Sir _Tim_. Here, take my Sword, _Jervice_. What have you inquir’d, as I directed you, concerning the rich Heiress, Sir _Nicholas Get-all’s_ Daughter? _Jer_. Alas, Sir, inquir’d! why, ‘tis all the City-News that she’s run away with one of the maddest Tories about Town. Sir _Tim_. Good Lord! Ay, ay, ‘tis so; the plaguy Rogue my Nephew has got her. That Heaven shou’d drop such Blessings in the Mouths of the wicked! Well, _Jervice_, what Company have we in the House, _Jervice_? _Jer_. Why, truly, Sir, a fine deal, considering there’s no Parliament. Sir _Tim_. What Lords have we, _Jervice_? _Jer_. Lords, Sir, truly none. Sir _Tim_. None! what, ne’er a Lord! some mishap will befall me, some dire mischance! Ne’er a Lord! ominous, ominous! our Party dwindles daily. What, nor Earl, nor Marquess, nor Duke, nor ne’er a Lord! Hum, my Wine will lie most villanously upon my Hands to Night. _Jervice_, what, have we store of Knights and Gentlemen? _Jer_. I know not what Gentlemen there be, Sir; but there are Knights, Citizens, their Wives and Daughters.