Sir Oliv. Upon my soul, sir, I do not; I think it is as honest a looking face as any in the room, dead or alive. But I suppose uncle Oliver goes with the rest of the lumber?

Chas. Surf. No, hang it! I’ll not part with poor Noll. The old fellow has been very good to me, and, egad, I’ll keep his picture while I’ve a room to put it in.

Sir Oliv. [Aside.] The rogue’s my nephew after all!—[Aloud.] But, sir, I have somehow taken a fancy to that picture.

Chas. Surf. I’m sorry for’t, for you certainly will not have it. Oons, haven’t you got enough of them?

Sir Oliv. [Aside.] I forgive him everything!—[Aloud.] But, sir, when I take a whim in my head, I don’t value money. I’ll give you as much for that as for all the rest.

Chas. Surf. Don’t tease me, master broker; I tell you I’ll not part with it, and there’s an end of it.

Sir Oliv. [Aside.] How like his father the dog is.—[Aloud.] Well, well, I have done.—[Aside.] I did not perceive it before, but I think I never saw such a striking resemblance.—[Aloud.] Here is a draught for your sum.

Chas. Surf. Why, ’tis for eight hundred pounds!

Sir Oliv. You will not let Sir Oliver go?

Chas. Surf. Zounds! no! I tell you, once more.

Sir Oliv. Then never mind the difference, we’ll balance that another time. But give me your hand on the bargain; you are an honest fellow, Charles—I beg pardon, sir, for being so free.—Come, Moses.

Chas. Surf. Egad, this is a whimsical old fellow!—But hark’ee, Premium, you’ll prepare lodgings for these gentlemen.

Sir Oliv. Yes, yes, I’ll send for them in a day or two.

Chas. Surf. But hold; do now send a genteel conveyance for them, for, I assure you, they were most of them used to ride in their own carriages.

Sir Oliv. I will, I will—for all but Oliver.

Chas Surf. Ay, all but the little nabob.

Sir Oliv. You’re fixed on that?

Chas. Surf. Peremptorily.

Sir Oliv. [Aside.] A dear extravagant rogue!—[Aloud.] Good day!—Come, Moses.—[Aside.] Let me hear now who dares call him profligate!

[Exit with Moses.

Care. Why, this is the oddest genius of the sort I ever met with!

Chas. Surf. Egad, he’s the prince of brokers, I think. I wonder how the devil Moses got acquainted with so honest a fellow.—Ha! here’s Rowley.—Do, Careless, say I’ll join the company in a few moments.

Care. I will—but don’t let that old blockhead persuade you to squander any of that money on old musty debts, or any such nonsense; for tradesmen, Charles, are the most exorbitant fellows.