Lord J. My vote I promised you, Mr. Wheeler; but I said not a syllable about my interest. My friends, perhaps, have not been offended, though I have, by Mr. Talbot. I shall leave them to their own inclinations.
Burs. (whistling). Wheugh! wheugh! wheugh! Wheeler, the principal’s nothing without the interest.
Wheel. Oh, the interest will go along with the principal, of course; for I’m persuaded, if my lord leaves his friends to their inclinations, it will be the inclination of my lord’s friends to vote as he does, if he says nothing to them to the contrary.
Lord J. I told you, Mr. Wheeler, that I should leave them to themselves.
Burs. (still whistling). Well, I’ll do my best to make that father of mine send me off to Oxford. I’m sure I’m fit to go—along with Wheeler. Why, you’d best be my tutor, Wheeler!—a devilish good thought.
Wheel. An excellent thought.
Burs. And a cursed fine dust we should kick up at Oxford, with your Montem money and all!—Money’s the go after all. I wish it was come to my making you my last bow, “ye distant spires, ye antic towers!”
Wheel. (aside to Lord J.). Ye antic towers!—fit for Oxford, my lord!
Lord J. Antique towers, I suppose Mr. Bursal means.
Burs. Antique, to be sure!—I said antique, did not I, Wheeler?