Swipes. Has she, good soul, has she? You know I come in,
then, in right of my wife.

Cur. And I in my own right; and this is no doubt the reason why we have
been called to hear the reading of the will. Squire Drawl knows how things
should be done, though he is as air-tight as one of your beer barrels. But
here comes the young reprobate. He must be present, as a matter of course,
you know. [Enter FRANK MILLINGTON.] Your servant, young gentleman. So your
benefactress has left you at last.

Swipes. It is a painful thing to part with old and good friends, Mr.
Millington.

Frank. It is so, sir; but I could bear her loss better had I not so often
been ungrateful for her kindness. She was my only friend, and I knew not
her value.

Cur. It is too late to repent, Master Millington. You will now have a
chance to earn your own bread.

Swipes. Ay, ay, or the sweat of your brow, as better people are obliged
to. You would make a fine brewer's boy, if you were not too old.

Cur. Ay, or a saddler's lackey, if held with a tight rein.

Frank. Gentlemen, your remarks imply that my aunt has treated me as I
deserved. I am above your insults, and only hope you will bear your
fortune as modestly as I shall mine submissively. I shall retire. [Going:
He meets SQUIRE DRAWL.]