Doct. That I believe, Sir Isaac, will be soon done; for I don't suppose you owe any.
Shar. Yes I owe for the nursing of a Bastard Child at Wandsor.
Doct. Is it possible you ever had a Bastard?
Shar. Several, Doctor, but they were all dropt upon different Parishes, except that One. Then there are some few dribbling Debts at Alehouses and Taverns where I used to meet my Wenches—in all about twenty Pounds.
Doct. I find, Mr. Littlewit, the old Gentleman has been a Cock of the Game in his time, Good Blood.
Little. Really, Doctor Leatherhead, I think so.
Shar. Item, I do constitute my Nephew Bellair whole and sole Executor of this my last Will and Testament.
Bell. O my dear Uncle, shall I lose you. (Cries)
Shar. Good natured Boy, how he weeps, disinheriting and cutting off all other Persons whatsoever—saving those hereafter mentioned.
Lucy. O my dear generous Master. (Cries)