CHARLES. Careless, knock down the mayor and aldermen. But,
plague on't! we shall be all day retailing in this manner;
do let us deal wholesale: what say you, little Premium?
Give me three hundred pounds for the rest of the family in the lump.

CARELESS. Ay, ay, that will be the best way.

SIR OLIVER. Well, well, anything to accommodate you; they are mine.
But there is one portrait which you have always passed over.

CARELESS. What, that ill-looking little fellow over the settee?

SIR OLIVER. Yes, sir, I mean that; though I don't think him so
ill-looking a little fellow, by any means.

CHARLES. What, that? Oh; that's my uncle Oliver! 'Twas done
before he went to India.

CARELESS. Your uncle Oliver! Gad, then you'll never be friends,
Charles. That, now, to me, is as stern a looking rogue as ever
I saw; an unforgiving eye, and a damned disinheriting countenance!
an inveterate knave, depend on't. Don't you think so, little Premium?

SIR OLIVER. Upon my soul, Sir, I do not; I think it is as honest a
looking face as any in the room, dead or alive. But I suppose uncle
Oliver goes with the rest of the lumber?

CHARLES. No, hang it! I'll not part with poor Noll. The old fellow
has been very good to me, and, egad, I'll keep his picture while I've