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Show The Way to win him. 21 believe it too. -- I thought that young Fellows ftudy'd to get Money. Mir. No, Sir, I have ftudy'd to defpife it; m y Reading was not to make m e rich, but happy, Sir. Old M. There he has m e agen now. But, Sir, did not I marrry to oblige you ? Mir. To oblige me, Sir, in what refpect, pray ? Old M. Why, to bring you into the World, Sir; wa'n't that an Obligation? Mir, A n d becaufe I wou'd have it ftill an Obligation, I avoid Marriage. Old Al. H o w is that, Sir ? Mir. Becaufe I wou'd not curfe the hour I was born. Old M. Look'e, Friend, you may perfuade m e out of my Defigns, but I'll command you out of yours; and tho' you may convince m y Reafon that you're in the right, yet there is an old Attendant of Sixty three', cali'd Pofitivenefs, which you nor all the Wits in Italy fhall ever be able to fhake; fo, Sir, you re a Wit, and I'm a Father; you may talk, but I'll be obey'd. Mir. This it is to have the Son a finer Gentleman than the Father; they firft give us Breeding that they don't underftand, then they turn us out of doors 'caufe w e are wifer than themfelves. But I'm a little afore-hand with the Old Gentleman. [Afide.] Sir, you have been pleas'd to fettle a thoufand pound Sterling a Year upon m e ; in return of which, I have a very great Honour for you and your Family, and fhall take care that your only and beloved Son fhall do nothing to make him hate his Father, or to hang himfelf. So, dear Sir, I'm your very humble Servant. [Runs off. Old Ad. Here, Sirrah, Rogue, Bob, Villain. Enter Dugard. Dug. Ay, Sir, 'tis but what he deferves. Old M. 'Tis falle, Sir, he don't deferve it: what have you to fay againft m y Boy, Sir ? Dug. I fhall only repeat your o w n Words. Old M. What have you to do with m y Words? I have fwallow'd m y Words already ; I have eaten them up, and how can you come at 'em, Sir? Dug. Very eafily, Sir: 'Tis but mentioning your injur'd Ward, and you will throw them up again immediately. Old M. Sir,your Sifter was a foolifh young Flirt, to truft any fuch young, deceitful, rakehelly Rogue, like him. Dug. Cry you mercy, Old Gentleman, I thought we fhou'd have the Words again. |
