Sir Fran. Only to see you to the door, Sir.
Man. Oh! Sir Francis, I love to come and go, without ceremony.
Sir Fran. Nay, Sir, I must do as you will have me—your humble Servant.
[Exit Manly.
Jenny. This Cousin Manly, Papa, seems to be but of an odd sort of a crusty humour——I don't like him half so well as the Count.
Sir Fran. Pooh! that's another thing, Child——Cousin is a little proud indeed! but however you must always be civil to him, for he has a deal of money; and no body knows who he may give it to.
Lady Wrong. Pshah; a fig for his money, you have so many projects of late about money, since you are a Parliament Man: What! we must make ourselves slaves to his impertinent humours, eight, or ten years perhaps, in hopes to be his heirs, and then he will be just old enough to marry his maid.
Moth. Nay, for that matter, Madam, the town says he is going to be married already.
Sir Fran. Who? Cousin Manly?