Skin. I believe you, Nephew.
Shar. But harkee you, Uncle, my Sister is come to Town too, and she thinks to come in for Snacks—but not a Grig—d'ye hear—not a Grig—I must have every Souse—Cousin Bellair too, that Prig, I hear, is looking out Sharp—But if you leave a Denier to any of them without my Consent you shall be buried alive in one of your own iron Chests, and sent as a present to your old Friend Belzebub.
Skin. To be sure, Nephew, you are so very dutiful and affectionate that I shall be entirely directed by you. Lucy, (Aside to Lucy) I am afraid this Villain is come to murder me; step in and call Bellair this Instant. (Exit Lucy) Pray Nephew, how long have you been in Town?
Shar. I came to Town late last Night—and hearing you were alive, I was resolved I would not sleep 'till I had seen you. So I went amongst the Coffee Houses at Covent Garden where I made a charming Riot; I fought a Duel, beat the Watch, kicked the Bawds, broke their Punch Bowls, clapt an old Market Woman upon her Head in the middle of a Kennel, bullied a Justice, and made all the Whores as drunk——
Skin. As yourself, I suppose. Upon my word, Nephew, you have made good use of your time since you have been in Town.
Shar. Ay, han't I, old Skinflint? Zounds I love a Riot; don't you love a Riot, Uncle?
Skin. O most passionately.
Shar. Give me your Hand. (Slaps him upon the Shoulder) Old Boy, I love you for that.
Skin. O, O, O, O, he has killed me; I am murdered.
Shar. Rot your old crazy Carcass, what do you cry out for, ha?