_Land._ Yes, sir; now and then. _Sir Geo._ Zounds! what do you do with them? _Land._ Why, sir, when a man calls for liquor that I think has no money, I make him pay beforehand. _Sir Geo._ Damn your liquor, you self-interested porpoise! Chatter your own private concerns, when the public good, or fear of general calamity, should be the only compass! These fellows, that I'm in pursuit of, have run from their ships; if our navy's unmann'd, what becomes of you and your house, you dunghill cormorant? _Land._ This is a very abusive sort of a gentleman; but he has a full pocket, or he wouldn't be so saucy. [_Aside._] [_Exit._ _Sir Geo._ This rascal, I believe, doesn't know I'm Sir George Thunder. Winds, still variable, blow my affairs right athwart each other.--To know what's become of my runagate son Harry,--and there my rich lady niece, pressing and squeezing up the noble plumage of our illustrious family in her little mean quaker bonnet. But I must up to town after--'Sblood, when I catch my son Harry!--Oh, here's John Dory. _Enter_ JOHN DORY. Have you taken the places in the London coach for me? _John._ Hahoy! your honour, is that yourself? _Sir Geo._ No, I'm beside myself--heard any thing of my son?-- _John._ What's o'clock? _Sir Geo._ What do you talk of clocks or timepieces--All glasses, reck'ning, and log-line, are run mad with me. _John._ If it's two, your son is at this moment walking with Lady Amaranth in her garden. _Sir Geo._ With Lady Amaranth! _John._ If half after, they're cast anchor to rest themselves amongst the posies; if three, they're got up again; if four, they're picking a bit of cramm'd fowl; and, if half after, they're picking their teeth, and cracking walnuts over a bottle of Calcavella. _Sir Geo._ My son! my dear friend, where did you find him? _John._ Why, I found him where he was, and I left him where he is. _Sir Geo._ What, and he came to Lady Amaranth's? _John._ No; but I brought him there from this house, in her ladyship's chariot. I won't tell him Master Harry went amongst the players, or he'd never forgive him. [_Aside._] Oh! such a merry, civil, crazy, crack-brain! the very picture of your honour. _Sir Geo._ Ha, ha, ha! What, he's in high spirits? ha, ha, ha! the dog! [_Joyfully._] But I hope he's had discretion enough to throw a little gravity over his mad humour, before his prudent cousin. _John._ He threw himself on his knees before her, and that did quite as well. _Sir Geo._ Ha, ha, ha! made love to her already! Oh, the impudent, the cunning villain! What, and may be he--[_With great glee._] _John._ Indeed he did give her a smack. _Sir Geo._ Me; ha, ha, ha! _John._ Oh, he's yours! a chip of the old block. _Sir Geo._ He is! he is! ha, ha, ha! _John._ Oh, he threw his arms around her as eager as I would to catch a falling decanter of Madeira.