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só many opportunities of shewing their own disinterestedness and generosity, by relieving a brother in distress.
Brush. A brother! that's a good one: he's going to do me the honour to claim relationship with me, now that he imagines I have a thousand in my pocket.
Merryman. Why not?—“ The man who is in distress, has ever a right to claim kindred wilk the wealthy."
Squire. I believe that Dickey has as much speculative benevolence as any man in the manor, though he is not so sensual as to indulge himself in the exercise of it.
Cutlas. To be sure he has a string of sentiments ready cut and dried for the theatre, the Common Hall, and the Staffordshire Arms; but his favourite one is, that -- Charity begins at home.
Brush. He has no pride, however, for he would claim kindred with a chimney-sweeper, if he had no money, and the sooty gentleman had enow to treat him with a bottle of brandy.
Merryman. Well, but, Charley, this is shifting off from the point. The money-let us have just a peep at it.
Brush. I will endeavour to tell you where it may be heard of, if you are not too indolent to seek it. My blockhead of a servant let in a creditor this morning, at the very moment when I was pleasing my eye with the money lying before me on the table. I started at the unexpected sight of the dun, as he did at that of so much money; I frowned; but his face brightened. “ This note has been longlong due, Sir.”_“I know it, my friend, but I have no money at present.” He pointed at the table.--I told him that the whole sum, and more, if I had it, was appropriated to the payment of debts of honour, which must be discharged by every man who pretended to honour. The fellow instantly threw his note into the fire, and told me, that his was now a debt of honour. I was charmed with his wit and confidence, and paid him great part of the money.
Merryman. Aye, what with your dice-box, and your philanthropy, all that you get by your wits, will ever slip through your fingers. It is strange, that so strong a head should be capable of relaxing into so much weakness. With all my foibles, drunk or sober, I was never guilty of such a piece of folly. I never pay my creditors with gold – not even my brandy merchant; the sentimental French plate, which I use, answers the purpose full as well.
Squire. Charles was rather hasty ; but it is too late to shut the stable door when the steed is stolen. Let's to dinner; and then we will see what is to be made of honest Mr. Moses, from Crutched Friars.
CONTAINS OTHER SCENES OF THE SAME COMEDY.
SCENE.-An outer Room in Snarldown House.
Enter Merryman and Moses. Merryman. Ah my old friend Moses ! how do you do?
Moses. I should be better, Mr. Merryman, if
every man had his due.
Merryman. Then, Moses, many a man would have a halter.
Moses. May be so, Mr. Merryman; you are a conscientious man, and, I dare say, you speak as you feel. Merryman. Well hit, Moses ! But hark
ye; did you get that little bill done for me?
Moses. 'Twas not to be done, indeed, Mr. Merryman.
Merryman. No! Why I thought when my friend Brush had set his name on it, it was as good as cash.
Moses. No, indeed, it would not do.
Merryman. Perhaps you could get it done by way of annuity?
Moses. Well, but you must insure your neck. Merryman. My life, I suppose you mean? Moses. Aye, it's all one.
A crick o'th' one, I dare say, will end the other.
Merryman. Ha! ha! you 're a wag, Moses. Moses. Is there nothing you can deposit ? Merryman. My honour, Moses.
Moses. It's threadbare, and won't pay for turning. Have you nothing that is worth something?
Merryman. The Squire's favour will be a good reversion, you know: but come this way, lest any should see you; and I will let the Squire know that you are here. [Exeunt.