_Rover._ I am, now I can put some pounds in your pockets; you shall be employed--we're getting up "_As you like it._" Let's see, in the cast have I a part for you?--I'll take Touchstone from Lamp, you shall have it, my boy; I'd resign Orlando to you with any other Rosalind; but the lady of the mansion plays it herself, you rogue. _Harry._ The very lady my father intended for me. [_Aside._] Do you love her, Jack? _Rover._ To distraction; but I'll not have her. _Harry._ No! Why? _Rover._ She thinks me a gentleman, and I'll not convince her I am a rascal. I'll go on with our play, as the produce is appropriated to a good purpose, and then lay down my 'squireship, bid adieu to my heavenly Rosalind, and exit for ever from her house, poor Jack Rover. _Harry._ The generous fellow I ever thought him! and he sha'n't lose by it. If I could make him believe--[_Aside._] Well, this is the most whimsical affair! You've anticipated, superseded me, ha! ha! ha! You'll scarce believe that I'm come here too (purposely though) to pass myself for this young Henry. _Rover._ No! _Harry._ I am. _Sir Geo._ [_Without._] Harry, where are you? _Rover._ Eh! who's that? _Harry._ Ah! ah! ah! I'll try it; my father will be cursedly vexed; but no other way. [_Aside._ _Rover._ Somebody called Harry--Zounds! "if the real Simon Pure" should be arrived, I'm in a fine way! _Harry._ Be quiet--that's my confederate. _Rover._ Eh! _Harry._ He's to personate the father, Sir George. He started the scheme, having heard that a union was intended, and Sir George not immediately expected--our plan is, if I can, before his arrival, flourish myself into the lady's good graces, and whip her up, as she's an heiress. _Rover._ But who is this comrade? _Harry._ One of our company, a devilish good actor in the old man. _Rover._ So you're turned fortune-hunter! Oh, oh! then 'twas on this plan that you parted with me on the road, standing like a finger post, "you walk up that way, and I must walk down this." [_Mimicks._] Why, Dick, I did'nt know you were half so capital a rogue. _Harry._ I did'nt know my forte lay that way, till persuaded by this experienced stager. _Rover._ He must be an impudent old scoundrel; who is he? Do I not know him? _Harry._ Why, no--I hope not. [_Aside._ _Rover._ I'll step down stairs, and have the honour of--I'll kick him. _Harry._ Stop! No, I wou'dn't have him hurt neither. _Rover._ What's his name? _Harry._ His name is--is--Abrawang. _Rover._ Abrawang! Abrawang! I never heard of him; but, Dick, why would you let him persuade you to such a scandalous affair? _Harry._ Why faith, I would have been off it; but when once he takes a project into his head, the devil himself can't drive him out of it. _Rover._ Yes; but the constable may drive him into Winchester gaol.