Char. Nay, it is very Ill, Sir; my Circumstances are, I'm sure.
Sir Fran. And what's that to me, Sir: Your Management shou'd have made them better.
Char. If you please to intrust me with the Management of my Estate, I shall endeavour it, Sir.
Sir Fran. What to set upon a Card, and buy a Lady's Favour at the Price of a Thousand Pieces, to Rig out an Equipage for a Wench, or by your Carelessness enrich your Steward to fine for Sheriff, or put up for Parliament-Man.
Char. I hope I shou'd not spend it this way: However, I ask only for what my Uncle left me; Your's you may dispose of as you please, Sir.
Sir Fran. That I shall, out of your Reach, I assure you, Sir. Adod these young Fellows think old Men get Estates for nothing but them to squander away, in Dicing, Wenching, Drinking, Dressing, and so forth.
Char. I think I was born a Gentleman, Sir; I'm sure my Uncle bred me like one.
Sir Fran. From which you wou'd infer, Sir, that Gaming, Whoring, and the Pox, are Requisits to a Gentleman.
Char. Monstrous! when I wou'd ask him only for a Support, he falls into these unmannerly Reproaches; I must, tho' against my Will, employ Invention, and by Stratagem relieve my self.
(Aside.