Cler. But my rival, what's he?
Pounce. There's some hopes there, for I hear the booby is as averse as his father is inclined to it. One is as obstinate as the other is cruel.
Cler. Sen. He is, they say, a pert blockhead, and very lively out of his father's sight.
Pounce. He that gave me his character called him a docile dunce, a fellow rather absurd, than a direct fool. When his father's absent, he'll pursue anything he's put upon. But we must not lose time. Pray be you two brothers at home to wait for any notice from me, while that pretty gentleman and I, whose face I have known, take a walk and look about for 'em—So, so, young lady. [Aside to Fainlove.] [Exeunt.
SCENE II.—St. James's Park.
Enter Sir Harry Gubbin and Tipkin.
Sir Har. Look ye, brother Tipkin, as I told you before, my business in town is to dispose of an hundred head of cattle, and my son.
Tip. Brother Gubbin, as I signified to you in my last, bearing date September 13th, my niece has a thousand pounds per annum, and because I have found you a plain-dealing man (particularly in the easy pad you put into my hands last summer), I was willing you should have the refusal of my niece, provided that I have a discharge from all retrospects while her guardian, and one thousand pounds for my care.
Sir Har. Ay, but brother, you rate her too high, the war has fetched down the price of women; the whole nation is overrun with petticoats; our daughters lie upon our hands, Brother Tipkin; girls are drugs, sir, mere drugs.