WHITE. My dear Mr. De Windsor, borrow a little wisdom from your own business. If everybody had clean hands, what would become of the soap trade?
DE W. Go, go, and defend every pickpocket, forger, coiner, housebreaker, in London. I don’t want to hinder you, I only say that I won’t give my daughter to a man who makes respectable people blubber till they are shoved out of court, on purpose to defeat the ends of justice.
WHITE. Then, sir, I suppose, because he furthers the ends of justice, you would give your daughter to the hangman.
DE W. (puzzled) Ahem! I shall not condescend to answer an argument so obviously sophistical. I only repeat what I said before. If Pawkins is a thief you sha’n’t have my daughter.
WHITE. (aside) Reason is wasted on this old blockhead! I must try another tack. (aloud) Ah, you have passed nobly through the ordeal. Just to sound you I hinted at the remote possibility of Pawkins’ guilt, but he is in point of fact, as we both know, innocent as the babe unborn. Did not the jury say so? However, ta, ta! for the present, sir. (aside) I must look out, egad! I was only retained as the rascal’s counsel, but I find I am his bail.
Exit, C., off L.
DE W. I’m sure he spoke of five small children! No; decidedly this legal morality won’t suit me. No, no—no barrister for me—decidedly a stockjobber!
Enter THWAITES, C., from R.
THWAITES. Please, sir, the parties which is in t’other room can’t get on without you.
DE W. I’m coming! Bull and bears have the day!