Myr. Now the Doctor purposes, we should all come thither in our habits, and when the rooms are full, we may steal up into his chamber, he says, and there——crack——he'll give us all canonical commission to go to bed together.
Count Bas. Admirable! Well, the devil fetch me, if I shall not be heartily glad to see thee well settled, child.
Myr. And may the black gentleman tuck me under his arm at the same time, if I shall not think myself oblig'd to you, as long as I live.
Count Bas. One kiss for old acquaintance sake——I'gad I shall want to be busy again!
Myr. O you'll have one shortly will find you employment: but I must run to my squire.
Count Bas. And I to the ladies——so your humble servant, sweet Mrs. Wronghead.
Myr. Yours, as in duty bound, most noble Count Basset.
[Exit Myr.
Count Bas. Why ay! Count! That title has been of some use to me indeed! not that I have any more pretence to it, than I have to a blue ribband. Yet, I have made a pretty considerable figure in life with it: I have loll'd in my own chariot, dealt at assemblies, din'd with Ambassadors, and made one at quadrille, with the first women of quality——But——Tempora mutantur——since that damn'd squadron at White's have left me out of their last secret, I am reduced to trade upon my own stock of industry, and make my last push upon a wife: if my card comes up right (which I think can't fail) I shall once more cut a figure, and cock my hat in the face of the best of them! for since our modern men of fortune are grown wise enough to be sharpers: I think sharpers are fools that don't take up the airs of men of quality.