Lory. Sir, I ask your Pardon; I find I did not know the Strength of your Conscience, so well as I did the Weakness of your Purse.
Young Fash. Methinks, Sir, a Person of your Experience should have known, that the Strength of the Conscience proceeds from the Weakness of the Purse.
Lory. Sir, I am very glad to find you have a Conscience able to take care of us, let it proceed from what it will; but I desire you'll please to consider, that the Army alone will be but a scanty Maintenance for a Person of your Generosity (at least as Rents now are paid); I shall see you stand in damnable need of some auxiliary Guineas for your menu Plaisirs; I will therefore turn Fool once more for your Service, and advise you to go directly to your Brother.
Young Fash. Art thou then so impregnable a Blockhead, to believe he'll help me with a Farthing?
Lory. Not if you treat him, de haut en bas, as you use to do.
Young Fash. Why, how would'st have me treat him?
Lory. Like a Trout, tickle him.
Young Fash. I can't flatter——
Lory. Can you starve?
Young Fash. Yes——