Marpl. I deny that.

Miran. That’s more than I do, Sir.

Marpl. Indeed, Madam, why then to proceed:  Fame says, that you and my most Conscionable Guardian here, design’d, contriv’d, plotted and agreed to chouse a very civil, honourable, honest Gentleman, out of a Hundred Pound.

Miran. That I contrived it!

Marpl. Ay you—­You said never a Word against it, so far you are Guilty.

Sir Fran. Pray tell that civil, honourable, honest Gentleman, that if he has any more such Sums to fool away, they shall be received like the last; Ha, ha, ha, ha, chous’d, quotha!  But hark ye, let him know at the same time, that if he dare to report I trick’d him of it, I shall recommend a Lawyer to him shall shew him a Trick for twice as much; D’ye hear, tell him that.

Marpl. So, and this is the way you use a Gentleman, and my Friend.

Miran. Is the Wretch thy Friend?

Marpl. The Wretch!  Look ye, Madam, don’t call Names; Egad I won’t take it.

Miran. Why you won’t beat me, will you?  Ha, ha.

Marpl. I don’t know whether I will or no.

Sir Fran. Sir, I shall make a Servant shew you out at the Window if you are sawcy.

Marpl. I am your most humble Servant, Guardian; I design to go out the same way I came in.  I wou’d only ask this Lady, if she do’s not think in her Soul Sir George Airy is not a fine Gentleman.

Miram. He Dresses well.

Sir Fran. Which is chiefly owing to his Taylor, and Valet de
Chamber.

Miran. And if you allow that a proof of his being a fine Gentleman, he is so.

Marpl. The judicious part of the World allow him Wit, Courage, Gallantry and Management; tho’ I think he forfeited that Character, when he flung away a Hundred Pound upon your Dumb Ladyship.

Sir Fran. Does that gaul him?  Ha, ha, ha.

Miran. So, Sir George remaining in deep Discontent, has sent you his trusty Squire, to utter his Complaint:  Ha, ha, ha.

Marpl. Yes, Madam; and you, like a cruel, hard-hearted Jew, value it no more—­than I wou’d your Ladyship, were I Sir George, you, you, you—­

Miran. Oh, don’t call Names.  I know you love to be employ’d, and I’ll oblige you; and you shall carry him a Message from me.

Marpl. According as I like it:  What is it?

Miran. Nay, a kind one you may be sure—­First tell him, I have chose this Gentleman to have, and to hold, and so forth.
    (Clapping her Hand into Sir Francis_’s._

Sir Fran. Oh the dear Rogue, how I dote on her!
    (Aside.

Miran. And advise his Impertinence to trouble me no more, for I prefer Sir Francis for a Husband before all the Fops in the Universe.