MOSES. I know nothing of books.

SIR OLIVER. So, so, nothing of the family property left, I suppose?

CHARLES. Not much, indeed; unless you have a mind to the family
pictures. I have got a room full of ancestors above: and if you
have a taste for old paintings, egad, you shall have 'em a bargain!

SIR OLIVER. Hey! what the devil! sure, you wouldn't sell your
forefathers, would you?

CHARLES. Every man of them, to the best bidder.

SIR OLIVER. What! your great-uncles and aunts?

CHARLES. Ay, and my great-grandfathers and grandmothers too.

SIR OLIVER. [Aside.] Now I give him up!--[Aloud.] What the plague,
have you no bowels for your own kindred? Odd's life! do you take me
for Shylock in the play, that you would raise money of me on your own
flesh and blood?

CHARLES. Nay, my little broker, don't be angry: what need you care,
if you have your money's worth?

SIR OLIVER. Well, I'll be the purchaser: I think I can dispose of
the family canvas.--[Aside.] Oh, I'll never forgive him this! never!

Re-enter CARELESS