Arch. You must know, then, that I am born a gentleman, my education was liberal; but I went to London a younger brother, fell into the hands of sharpers, who stripped me of my money; my friends disowned me, and now my necessity brings me to what you see.
Cher. Then take my hand—promise to marry me before you sleep, and I'll make you master of two thousand pounds.
Arch. How!
Cher. Two thousand pounds, that I have this minute in my own custody; so throw off your livery this instant, and I'll go find a parson.
Arch. What said you? A parson!
Cher. What! do you scruple?
Arch. Scruple! No, no, but—two thousand pounds, you say?
Cher. And better.
Arch. 'Sdeath, what shall I do?—But harkye, child, what need you make me master of yourself and money, when you may have the same pleasure out of me, and still keep your fortune in your own hands?
Cher. Then you won't marry me?