Grave—spread it abroad—'tis true I was a little out of order last Night, but I'm mighty well today. Auh! Auh! Extremely well. Auh! Auh! Lucy, give me a little of that Hartshorn.

Bell. Upon my word, Sir, I never saw you look better. Pray young Lady, what do you think?

Har. Indeed, Sir, I think the Gentleman looks extremely gay and healthy.

Skin. I should be very ill indeed, Madam, if such powerful Eyes as yours could not give me new Life. (Bowing very low)

Har. O Sir, your Servant. (Curtsying very low)

Lad. Very gallant indeed, Sir.

Skin. Yes, Madam, you will be a Medea's Kettle to me from [whence] I shall receive new Vigour. Your Charms will be a vivifying Nostrum to the morbific parts, which Infirmity and Age have laid hold of. You will be an Inlap to my Heart—and my Marriage will be an infallible Specific which I shall take as my last Remedy.—Give me a little of that Cordial.

Har. Sir, whatever commands my Lady thinks proper to lay on me, I shall think it my Duty to give them an implicit Obedience. (She curtsies all the while. Skin. bows)

Lad. You see, Sir Isaac, my Daughter is entirely directed by my Will; so if you are ready to fulfill the Agreement, that is to settle a thousand pounds a year on her during your own Life, and your whole Fortune in Reversion upon your Decease, she is ready to marry you.

Skin. Madam, I am as ready as she, and have given orders to my Lawyer to draw up the Articles for that purpose with the utmost Expedition, and I expect them to be brought every moment ready to sign.

Lad. Then, Harriet, I will leave you here, Child, while I call upon my Lawyer in Lincoln's Inn, who is to peruse the Writings.—Mrs. Lucy, pray will you let one of your Men order my Coach up to the Door.(Exit Lucy)

Sir Isaac Skinflint, your Servant. Mr. Bellair, yours.(Exit)

Skin. [To Harriet] Come Madam, let not these naughty Flannels disgust you; I can pull 'em off upon—um—ahu—certain Occasions. I shall look better in a few days.

Har. Better! That's impossible, Sir, you can't look better.

Skin. O Lord, Madam! (Bowing)

Har. (Takes him by the hand) There, there's a Figure; do but view him. Sir, I never saw a finer Figure for a Shroud and Coffin in my Life.

Skin. Madam! (starting)

Har. I say, Sir, you are a most enchanting Figure for a Shroud and Coffin.

Skin. Shroud and Coffin! (He walks off! She after him)

Har. Well I can't help admiring your Intrepidity, Sir Isaac; o' my Conscience, you have more Courage than half the young Fellows in Town. Why what a Don Quixot are you to venture that shattered, shabby, crazy Carcass of yours into a Marriage Bed with a hale Constitution of Nineteen!

Skin. Why really, Madam——

Har. Why really, Sir, you'll repent it.

Skin. I believe it, I believe it, Madam.

Har. What you, who are a gouty, cholicky, feverish, paralytick, hydropic, asthmatic, and a thousand Diseases besides, venture to light Hymen's Torch! Why, Sir, it is perfect Madness; it is making but one Step from your Wedding to your Grave. Pray Sir, how long do you expect to live?

Skin. Not long I am sure if I marry you.

Har. You are in the right on't, Sir; it will not be consistent with my Pleasure or my Interest that you should live above a Fortnight; um—ay, in about a Fortnight I can do it. Let me see; ay, it is but pulling away a Pillow in one of your coughing Fits—or speaking properly to your Apothecary—a very little Ratsbane or Laudanum will do the Business!

Skin. O monstrous!

Bell. Madam, this is a behaviour unbecoming the Daughter of Lady Lovewealth, and what I am confident her Ladyship will highly resent.

Har. You are mistaken, Sir; my Lady has consented to his Death in a Fortnight after our Marriage.

Skin. O lud! O lud!

Har. She begged hard for a Month, but I could not agree to it; so now the only Dispute between us is whether he shall be poisoned or strangled.

Skin. O horrid! O terrible! So then it was agreed between you that I should be sent out of the World one way or t'other.

Har. Yes Sir. What other Treatment could you expect, you who are a mere walking Hospital! an Infirmary! O shocking! Ha! ha! There's a Figure to go to bed with. (Pointing at him and bursting into a Laugh)

Skin. I shall choke with Rage. Auh! Auh!

Bell. Madam, I cannot stand by and see this Treatment.—If you use him thus before Marriage, what ought he to expect after it?

Har. What? Why I have told him, Death! Death! Death!

Skin. Ay, you have indeed, Madam, and I thank you for it, but it shall never be in your Power, either to strangle or poison me. Auh! Auh! I would as soon marry a she Dragon; Nephew, I beg you will turn her out—see her out of the House, pray.

Bell. Madam, let me beg you will shorten your Visit.

Har. O Sir, with all my Heart; I see you are a Confederate with your Uncle in this Affair, but I shall insist upon his Promise of Marriage; I can prove it, and assure yourself, Sir, if there be Law in Westminster Hall or Doctors Commons, you shall hear from me, and so your Servant, Sir.(Goes off in a Passion)

Skin. Dear Nephew, see her out of the House; she has almost worried me to Death. (Sits down)(Exit Bellair)

(Enter LUCY)

Skin. O Lucy, give me a little Inlap or Hartshorn or something to raise my Spirits. Had ever Man so happy an Escape?

Lucy. Ay, Sir, you'd say it was a happy Escape indeed, if you knew all; why Sir, it is whispered everywhere that she had an Intrigue last Summer at Scarborough with a Captain of Horse.

Skin. I don't in the least doubt it; she who could give Ratsbane or Laudanum to her Husband, I believe would not hesitate at a little Fornication.

(SHARK without, dressed like a Fox Hunter, drunk, knocking very loud and hollowing)

Shar. Haux, haux, haux, my Honies, Heyhe! House, where the Devil are you all?

Skin. Bless us, who is it knocks so? ([knocking] within)

Lucy. The Lord knows, Sir, some Madman I believe—It is Shark, I suppose. (Aside)

(Enter SHARK)

Shar. Hey House! Family! Where are you all?

Lucy. What do you want, Sir?

Shar. What's that to you, Hussy? Where's Skinflint?

Lucy. Skinflint!

Shar. Ay, Skinflint.

Lucy. There is my Master, Sir Isaac Skinflint, in that great Chair.

Shar. (Going up to him looking in his Face and laughing) A damned odd Sort of a Figure: a cursed queer old Fellow to look at. Is your name Skinflint?

Skin. It is, Sir.

Shar. Then give me you Hand, old Boy. (Shakes him by the Flannels)

Skin. Hold, hold, Sir, you'll kill me if you han't a Care.

Shar. So much the better; the sooner you die the better for me.

Skin. For you? Pray, Sir, who are you?

Shar. Your Nephew who has rid a hundred Miles on purpose to take Possession of your Estate.

Skin. Are you my Nephew?

Shar. Yes, Sir.

Skin. I am sorry for it.

Shar. My Name is Bumper; my Father, Sir Barnaby Bumper, took to Wife a Lady who as I have been told was your Sister; which said Sister, Sir, brought me into the World in less than four Months after her Marriage.

Skin. In four Months?

Shar. Yes, Sir, My Father was a little displeased with it at first; but upon