Discovering his ensigns of the Bath.
Croaker. Sir William Honeywood!
Honeyw. Astonishment! my uncle!
Aside.
Lofty. So then, my confounded genius has been all this time only leading me up to the garret, in order to fling me out of the window.
Croaker. What, Mr. Importance, and are these your works? Suspect you! You, who have been dreaded by the ins and outs: you, who have had your hand to addresses, and your head stuck up in print-shops. If you were served right, you should have your head stuck up in the pillory.
Lofty. Ay, stick it where you will; for, by the Lord, it cuts but a very poor figure where it sticks at present.
Sir Will. Well, Mr. Croaker, I hope you now see how incapable this gentleman is of serving you, and how little Miss Richland has to expect from his influence.
Croaker. Ay, sir, too well I see it, and I can't but say I have had some boding of it these ten days. So I'm resolved, since my son has placed his affections on a lady of moderate fortune, to be satisfied with his choice, and not run the hazard of another Mr. Lofty in helping him to a better.
Sir Will. I approve your resolution; and here they come, to receive a confirmation of your pardon and consent.