Sir Geo. I prefer the Sensual Pleasure, I'm for her I've seen, who is thy Father's Ward Miranda.
Cha. Nay then, I pity you; for the Jew my Father will no more part with her, and 30000 Pound, than he wou'd with a Guinea to keep me from starving.
Sir Geo. Now you see Gold can't do every thing, Charles.
Cha. Yes, for 'tis her Gold that bars my Father's Gate against you.
Sir Geo. Why, if he is this avaricious Wretch, how cam'st thou by such a Liberal Education?
Cha. Not a Souse out of his Pocket, I assure you; I had an Uncle who defray'd that Charge, but for some litte Wildnesses of Youth, tho' he made me his Heir, left Dad my Guardian till I came to Years of Discretion, which I presume the old Gentleman will never think I am; and now he has got the Estate into his Clutches, it does me no more good, than if it lay in Prester John's Dominions.
Sir Geo. What can'st thou find no Stratagem to redeem it?
Cha. I have made many Essays to no purpose; tho' Want, the Mistress of Invention, still tempts me on, yet still the old Fox is too cunning for me— I am upon my last Project, which if it fails, then for my last Refuge, a Brown Musquet.
Sir Geo. What is't, can I assist thee?
Cha. Not yet, when you can, I have Confidence enough in you to ask it.