_Old Mir._ Your father is your very humble slave--I tell thee what, child, thou art a very pretty fellow, and I love thee heartily; and a very great villain, and I hate thee mortally.
_Y. Mir._ Villain, sir! Then I must be a very impudent one; for I can't recollect any passage of my life that I'm ashamed of.
_Old Mir._ Come hither, my dear friend; dost see this picture? [_Shows him a little Picture._
_Old Mir._ What, sir, won't you look upon't?--Bob, dear Bob, pr'ythee come hither now--Dost want any money, child?
_Old Mir._ Why, then, here's some for thee: come here now--How canst thou be so hard-hearted, an unnatural, unmannerly rascal, (don't mistake me, child, I a'n't angry) as to abuse this tender, lovely, good-natured, dear rogue?--Why, she sighs for thee, and cries for thee, pouts for thee, and snubs for thee; the poor little heart of it is like to burst----Come, my dear boy, be good-natured, like your own father; be now--and then, see here, read this----the effigies of the lovely Oriana, with thirty thousand pound to her portion--thirty thousand pound, you dog! thirty thousand pound, you rogue! how dare you refuse a lady with thirty thousand pound, you impudent rascal?
_Old Mir._ Hear you speak, sir! If you had thirty thousand tongues, you could not out-talk thirty thousand pound, sir.
_Y. Mir._ Nay, sir, if you won't hear me, I'll begone, sir! I'll take post for Italy this moment.
_Old Mir._ Ah, the fellow knows I won't part with him! Well, sir, what have you to say?
_Y. Mir._ The universal reception, sir, that marriage has had in the world, is enough to fix it for a public good, and to draw every body into the common cause; but there are some constitutions, like some instruments, so peculiarly singular, that they make tolerable music by themselves, but never do well in a concert.
_Old Mir._ Why, this is reason, I must confess, but yet it is nonsense too; for, though you should reason like an angel, if you argue yourself out of a good estate, you talk like a fool.
_Y. Mir._ But, sir, if you bribe me into bondage with the riches of Croesus, you leave me but a beggar, for want of my liberty.
_Old Mir._ Was ever such a perverse fool heard? 'Sdeath, sir! why did I give you education? was it to dispute me out of my senses? Of what colour, now, is the head of this cane? You'll say, 'tis white, and, ten to one, make me believe it too----I thought that young fellows studied to get money.