_Marpl._ Me! why I live for no other purpose--Sir _George_, I have the
Honour to be carest by most of the reigning Toasts of the Town, I'll
tell 'em you are the finest Gentleman--

Sir _Geo._ No, no, prithee let me alone to tell the Ladies--my
Parts--can you convey a Letter upon Occasion, or deliver a Message with
an Air of Business, Ha!

_Marpl._ With the Assurance of a Page and the Gravity of a Statesman.

Sir _Geo._ You know _Miranda!_

_Marpl._ What, my Sister _Ward?_ Why, her Guardian is mine, we are
Fellow Sufferers: Ah! he is a covetous, cheating, sanctify'd Curmudgeon;
that Sir _Francis Gripe_ is a damn'd old--

_Char._ I suppose, Friend, you forget that he is my Father--

_Marpl._ I ask your Pardon, _Charles_, but it is for your sake I hate
him. Well, I say, the World is mistaken in him, his Out-side Piety,
makes him every Man's Executor, and his Inside Cunning, makes him every
Heir's Jaylor. Egad, _Charles_, I'm half persuaded that thou'rt some
_Ward_ too, and never of his getting: For thou art as honest a Debauchee
as ever Cuckolded Man of Quality.

Sir _Geo._ A pleasant Fellow.

_Cha._ The Dog is Diverting sometimes, or there wou'd be no enduring his
Impertinence: He is pressing to be employ'd and willing to execute, but