Exit hastily, L. D.
RAT. (aside and agitated) That cursed paper may betray me, and this mad desperate game will have been played in vain.
POS. (taking his arm and in a confidential manner) Now between you and me and the post, if Cousin Somerton was to say to you, what will you give me for the chance of recovering my fifteen thousand pounds? what would you feel disposed to offer?
RAT. Not fifteen thousand farthings.
POS. (aside) The devil.
RAT. But what of that; the loss of a few paltry thousand can never lessen the intense affection you feel for your charming cousin.
POS. What do you mean by “intense affection?” I respect her—I like her—so I did my grandmother, but it never would occur to me to fall down and worship the ground she treads upon! besides to be candid with you, I don’t think she is the sort of woman to fret herself into fiddlestrings about me.
RAT. Indeed!
POS. No; besides, I put it to you, would it not be most selfish, most unkind in me to take a mean advantage of her promise to marry me, and compel my young and lovely relative to spend the remainder of her existence with me in my second floor in Arabella Row, Pimlico.
RAT. (grasping POSTLETHWAITE’S hand) That sentiment does you honour! Then she’s at liberty to cancel her engagement to you? (eagerly)