Cur. Not a whisper! the ’Squire is as close as a miser’s purse. But one of the witnesses hinted to me that she has cut off her graceless nephew with a shilling.
Swipes. Has she? Good soul! Has she? You know I come in, then, in right of my wife.
Cur. And I in my own right; and this is, no doubt, the reason why we have been called to hear the reading of the will. ’Squire Drawl knows how things should be done, though he is as air-tight as one of your own beer-barrels, brother Swipes. But here comes the young reprobate. He must be present, as a matter of course, you know. (Enter Frank Millington, R.) Your servant, young gentleman. So, your benefactress has left you, at last!
Swipes. It is a painful thing to part with old and good friends, Mr. Millington.
Frank. It is so, sir; but I could bear her loss better, had I not so often been ungrateful for her kindness. She was my only friend, and I knew not her value.
Cur. It is too late to repent, Master Millington. You will now have a chance to earn your own bread.
Swipes. Ay, ay, by the sweat of your brow, as better people are obliged to. You would make a fine brewer’s boy, if you were not too old.
Cur. Ay, or a saddler’s lackey, if held with a tight rein.
Frank. Gentlemen, your remarks imply that my aunt has treated me as I deserved. I am above your insults, and only hope you will bear your fortune as modestly, as I shall mine submissively. I shall retire. (As he is going, R., enter ’Squire Drawl, R.)
’Squire. Stop, stop, young man! We must have your presence. Good-morning, gentlemen: you are early on the ground.