Skin. Ay, Madam, Envious Wretches who expect Legacies—and who wish me in my 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.