Job. He won't.
Sir Simon. Why not?
Job. He's going to marry another.
Sir Simon. Then he turns out. The rascal sha'n't disgrace my estate four and twenty hours longer.—Injure a reputable tradesman, my neighbour!——a freeholder!—and refuse to——did you say he was poor?
Job. No, Sir Simon; and, by and by, if you don't stand in his way, he may be very rich.
Sir Simon. Rich! eh!—Why, zounds! is he a gentleman?
Job. I have answer'd that question already, Sir Simon.
Sir Simon. Not that I remember.
Job. I thought I had been telling you his behaviour.
Sir Simon. Umph!