his being informed that such forward Births were frequent in your Family, he was soon reconciled to it.

Skin. They belied our Family, Sir—for our Family—

Shar. Hush! hush! Don't expose them. They were always a damned whoring Family; I must confess I have frequently blushed at the quickness of my Mother's conception, for it has often been thrown in my Teeth; but since it has made me your Heir, that will set me above the Disgrace.

Skin. My Heir!

Shar. Ay, your Heir, Sir. I am come to Town on purpose to take Possession. We had an Account in the Country that you were dead.

Skin. And I suppose you are not a little mortified to find the Report is false, ha?

Shar. Why, I am sorry to find you alive, I must confess. I was in hopes to have found you stretched out and ready for the black Gentleman to say Grace over you.

Skin. Sir, your Servant.

Shar. May the strawberry Mare knock up the next hard Chace if I have not ridden as hard to be at your Earthing as ever I did to be in at the Death of a Fox.

Skin. It was most affectionately done of you, Nephew, and I shall remember you for it.—A Villain! I'll not leave him a Groat. (Aside)

Shar. However since you are alive, Uncle, I am glad to see you look so ill.

Skin. I am very much obliged to you, Nephew. (Aside to Lucy) Was there ever such a Reprobate, Lucy?

Shar. They tell me you have a damned deal of money that you have got by Extortion and Usury and Cheating of Widows and Orphans to whom you have been Guardian and Executor, ha—but I suppose you intend every Grig of it for me, ha! Old Boy, I'll let it fly. I'll release the yellow Sinners from their Prisons; they shall never be confined by me.

Skin. I believe you, Nephew.

Shar. But harkee you, Uncle, my Sister is come to Town too, and she thinks to come in for Snacks—but not a Grig—d'ye hear—not a Grig—I must have every Souse—Cousin Bellair too, that Prig, I hear, is looking out Sharp—But if you leave a Denier to any of them without my Consent you shall be buried alive in one of your own iron Chests, and sent as a present to your old Friend Belzebub.

Skin. To be sure, Nephew, you are so very dutiful and affectionate that I shall be entirely directed by you. Lucy, (Aside to Lucy) I am afraid this Villain is come to murder me; step in and call Bellair this Instant. (Exit Lucy) Pray Nephew, how long have you been in Town?

Shar. I came to Town late last Night—and hearing you were alive, I was resolved I would not sleep 'till I had seen you. So I went amongst the Coffee Houses at Covent Garden where I made a charming Riot; I fought a Duel, beat the Watch, kicked the Bawds, broke their Punch Bowls, clapt an old Market Woman upon her Head in the middle of a Kennel, bullied a Justice, and made all the Whores as drunk——

Skin. As yourself, I suppose. Upon my word, Nephew, you have made good use of your time since you have been in Town.

Shar. Ay, han't I, old Skinflint? Zounds I love a Riot; don't you love a Riot, Uncle?

Skin. O most passionately.

Shar. Give me your Hand. (Slaps him upon the Shoulder) Old Boy, I love you for that.

Skin. O, O, O, O, he has killed me; I am murdered.

Shar. Rot your old crazy Carcass, what do you cry out for, ha?

Skin. O, O, O, I can't bear to be touched.

Shar. O, O, Oh! Damn you, why don't you die then? Harkee Uncle, how long do you intend to live? Ha! I'll allow you but three days, and if you don't die in that time, dead or alive, I'll have you buried. For I am resolved not to stir out of Town 'till I see that Bag of Bones of yours, that old rotten Carcass pailed up between four substantial Elms and laid twenty foot deep in the Earth, and then light lie the Turf, and flourish long Bow. Toll, loll, de doll, ha! ha! Uncle, I'll take care of your safe Passage to Pluto, never fear.

Skin. Had ever Man such a Reprobate Relation? O the Villain!

(Enter Mr. DEATH)

Shar. O Mr. Death, your Servant.

Death. I am come, Sir, according to your Commands; pray which is the Gentleman I am to take Measure of?

Shar. That old Prig in the Chair there.

Death. Sir, your humble Servant.

Skin. Sir, your Servant. What are your Commands with me?

Death. Sir, my Name is Death.

Skin. Death!

Death. Yes Sir, at your Service, Dismal Death of—pretty well known in this City.

Skin. And pray Mr. Dismal Death, what do you want with me?

Death. I am come to take measure of you for a Coffin.

Skin. What! How!

Shar. Yes you old Prig, I ordered him to take Measure of you and Measure he shall take this Instant; do you hear, Mr. Death, measure him, measure the old Prig; I'll hold him fast.

(SHARK lays hold of him while Mr. DEATH measures him)

Skin. Are you going to murder me? You Villain! Here Lucy, Nephew, Murder!

(Enter LUCY and BELLAIR)

Bell. How now, what's the matter? Are you going to rob my Uncle?

Death. No, no, Sir, we are only taking Measure of him for a Coffin.

Skin. O Nephew, they have almost killed me! Here is your cousin Bumper come to take Possession of my Fortune whether I will or no; and [he] has brought a frightful Fellow to take Measure of me for a Coffin and Shroud, and swears he will bury me within these three days, dead or alive.

Bell. Are not you ashamed, Cousin Bumper, to use our Uncle so inhumanly?

Shar. Damn you Prig, have you a mind to resent it? If you have, lug out, and I'll soon dispatch you. (Draws)

Skin. Was there ever such a bloody minded Villain? Dear Nephew, come in with me; I'll do his Business for him in a more effectual way than fighting. I'll swear the Peace against him and make my Will, without leaving him a Shilling.(Exit with Bellair)

Shar. So far the Plow speeds. I think we have done Mr. Bumper's Business for him. That Obstacle is pretty well removed—We have nothing to do now but to provide for his Sister the Widow, and then to contrive some means to frighten the old Fellow into a Will in favour of my Master.

Lucy. Ay, Shark, that is the chiefest Difficulty, the Masterpiece, and unless you accomplish that you do nothing.

Shar. I know it, my Dear; here, here (pointing to his head), here, here—the Embryo is here, and will come forth perfect in less than ten Minutes. Why Lucy, I have a Genius to Deceit, and wanted nothing but an Opportunity to shew it.

Lucy. I think you have a very fair one now.

Shar. I have so, and never fear, Girl, I'll engage I make a proper use of it. Lord, how many great Men have been lost for want of being thrown into a proper light? On my Conscience, had I been bred in a Court, I believe I should have made as great a Figure as ever Cromwell did, for