CARELESS. Ay, ay, this will do. But, Charles, I haven't a hammer;
and what's an auctioneer without his hammer?

CHARLES. Egad, that's true. What parchment have we here? Oh,
our genealogy in full. [Taking pedigree down.] Here, Careless,
you shall have no common bit of mahogany, here's the family tree
for you, you rogue! This shall be your hammer, and now you may
knock down my ancestors with their own pedigree.

SIR OLIVER. What an unnatural rogue!--an ex post facto parricide!
[Aside.]

CARELESS. Yes, yes, here's a list of your generation indeed;--
faith, Charles, this is the most convenient thing you could have
found for the business, for 'twill not only serve as a hammer,
but a catalogue into the bargain. Come, begin--A-going, a-going,
a-going!

CHARLES. Bravo, Careless! Well, here's my great uncle, Sir Richard
Ravelin, a marvellous good general in his day, I assure you.
He served in all the Duke of Marlborough's wars, and got that cut
over his eye at the battle of Malplaquet. What say you, Mr. Premium?
look at him--there's a hero! not cut out of his feathers, as your
modern clipped captains are, but enveloped in wig and regimentals,
as a general should be. What do you bid?

SIR OLIVER. [Aside to Moses.] Bid him speak.

MOSES. Mr. Premium would have you speak.