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"Sir Gilb. Oh, a very ingenious person! he's well "known at court; he must stand; besides, I believe "we shall employ him in our Spanish trade"here we can spare you one, I believe-Sir Isaac "Bickerstaff, Knt. one thousand.

"Frank. What, the fam'd censor of Great Britain? "Sir Gilb. No, no, he was a very honest, pleasant "fellow; this is only a relation, a mere whimsical, "that will draw nobody's way but his own, and is "always wiser than his betters. I don't understand "that sort of wisdom, that's for doing good to every "body but himself. Let those list him that like ❝ him; he shall ride in no troop of mine, odsheart"" likins! [Blots him. "Gran. How he damns them with a dash, like a "proscribing triumvir!

"Sir Gilb. Let's see."-I would fain have another for you-Oh, here! William Penkethman, one thousand. Ha, a very pretty fellow, truly! What, give a thousand pounds to a player why, it's enough to turn his brain: we shall have him grow proud, and quit the stage upon it. No, no, keep him poor, and let him mind his business; if the puppy leaves off playing the fool, he's undone. No, no, I won't hurt the stage; my wife loves plays, and whenever she is there, I am sure of three hours quiet at home[Blots, &c.]-Let's see; one, three, four, five, ay, just Frankly's sum--Here's five thousand for you, Mr. Granger, with a wet finger.

Gran. Sir, I shall ever be in your debt.

Sir Gilb. Pooh! you owe me nothing.

Frank. You have the happiness of this life, Sir Gilbert, the power of obliging all about you.

Sir Gilb. Oh, Mr. Frankly, money won't do every thing! I am uneasy at home for all this.

Frank. Is that possible, sir, while you have so fine a lady?

Sir Gilb. Ay, ay, you are her favourite, and have learning enough to understand her; but she is too wise and too wilful for me.

Frank. Oh, sir! learning's a fine accomplishment in a fine lady.

Sir Gilb. Ay, it's no matter for that, she's a great plague to me. Not but my lord bishop, her uncle, was a mighty good man; she lived all along with him; I took her upon his word; 'twas he made her a scholar; I thought her a miracle; before I had her, I used to go and hear her talk Latin with him an hour together; and there I—I—I played the fool—-—I was wrong, I was wrong-1 should not have married again—and yet, I was so fond of her parts, I begged him to give my eldest daughter the same tine education; and so he did-but, to tell you the truth, I believe both their heads are turned.

Gran. A good husband, sir, would set your daughter right, I warrant you.

Sir Gilb. He must come out of the clouds, then; for she thinks no mortal man can deserve her. What

think you, Mr. Frankly, you had soon enough of


Frank. I think still, she may deserve any mortal man, sir.

Gran. I cann't boast of my merit, Sir Gilbert; but I wish you would give me leave to take my chance with her.

Sir Gilb. Will you dine with me?

Gran. Sir, you shall not ask me twice.

Sir Gilb. And you, Mr. Frankly?

Frank. Thank you, sir, I have had the honour of my lady's invitation before I came out.

Sir Gilb. Oh, then, pray don't fail; for when you are there, she is always in humour.

Gran. I hope, sir, we shall have the happiness of the young lady's company too.

Sir Gilb. Ay, ay, after dinner I'll talk with you. Frank. Not forgetting your favourite, Charlotte, sir. Sir Gilb. Look you, Mr. Frankly, I understand you; you have a mind to my daughter Charlotte, and I have often told you, I have no exceptions to you; and therefore you may well wonder why I yet scruple my consent.

Frank. You have a right to refuse it, no doubt, sir; but I hope you cann't blame me for asking it.

Sir Gilb. In troth, I don't; and I wish you had it, with all my heart. -But so it is-there's no com. fort, sure, in this life; for, though, by this glorious state of our stocks, I have raised my poor single plumb to a pomgranate, yet if they had not risen quite so high, you and I, Mr. Frankly, might possibly have been both happier men than we are.


Frank. How so, sir?

Sir Gilb. Why, at the price it now is, I am under contract to give one of the greatest coxcombs upon earth the refusal of marrying which of my daughters he pleases.

Gran. Hey-day! What, is marriage a bubble too? [Aside.

Sir Gilb. Nay, and am bound in honour even to speak a good word for him. You know young Witling.

Frank. I could have guessed your coxcomb, sir; but I hope he has not yet named the lady.

Sir Gilb. Not directly; but I guess his inclinations, and expect every hour to have him make his call upon my consent according to form.

"Frank. Is this possible?"

Gran. Sir, if he should happen to name Sophronia, will you give me leave to drub him out of his contract?

Sir Gilb. By no means; credit's a nice point, and people won't suppose that would be done without my connivance: "beside, I believe Sophronia's in no 66 danger. But because one can be sure of nothing, "gentlemen, I demand both your words of honour, "that, for my sake, you will neither of you use any "acts of hostility.

"Frank. Sir, in this case, you have a right to com

"mand us.

“Sir Gilb. Your hands upon't.

"Both. And our words of honour.


"Sir Gilb. I am satisfied."-If we can find a way to outwit him, so; if not- -Odso! here he comesbeg your pardon, gentlemen; but I won't be in his way, till I cannot help it. Hum, hum! Gran. A very odd circumstance.


Frank. I am afraid there's something in it; and begin to think, now, my friend, Witling (in his raillery yesterday with Charlotte) knew what he said himself, though he did not care whether any body else did.

Gran. Sure it cannot be real! I always took Witling for a beggar.

Frank. So he was, or very near it, some months ago; but since fortune has been playing her tricks here, she has rewarded his merit, it seems, with about an hundred thousand pounds out of Change-alley. Gran. Nay, then he may be dangerous indeed. Frank. I long to know the bottom of it.

Gran. That you cann't fail of; for you know he is vain and familiar-and here he comes.


Wit. Ha, my little Granger how dost thou do, child? Where the devil hast thou been this age? What's the reason you never come among us? Frankly, give me thy little finger, my dear.

Gran. Thou art a very impudent fellow, Witling. Wit. Ay, it's no matter for that; thou art a pleasant one, I am sure; for thou always makest us laugh.

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