I—’tis my Will—commit it to the flames.
Hence! disappear! now am I lord alone:
They’ll groan, I know; but, curse them, let them groan.
Who wants his money like a new made heir,
To put all things in order and repair?
I need the whole the worthy man could save,
To do my father credit in his grave:
It takes no trifle to have squires convey’d
To their last house with honour and parade. 100
All this, attended by a world of cost,