A Will and No Will or A Bone for the Lawyers Part 8

_Skin._ Get out of my Doors this Minute.

_Shar._ Sir, you are an uncivil Gentleman to bid me get out, but I find you are as great a Rogue as the most malicious Report can make you.

_Skin._ Get out of my House, I say!

_Shar._ Well, I'll go, Sir, but depend upon it you shall not live many Days after this. I'll be the Death of you, if there are no more Uncles in the World.

_Lucy._ Slip up the back stairs to my Room and I'll come and undress you. (_Aside to him as she thrusts him off_) Get you out, you wicked Woman, get you out. (_Exit Shark_)

_Skin._ Was ever Man so hope up with such a parcel of Relations! Make them my Heirs! I would as soon leave my Money to a Privateer's Crew; and I verily believe they would be as thankful and make as good a use of it.--I have been so worried and teazed by them all, that I am not able to support any longer--I must go in and lye down. Support me, Lucy, or I shall fall; I am quite faint. Oh, oh! (_Exeunt_)

(_Enter_ BELLAIR)

_Bell._ So! Thus far all goes well. Shark has been as successful in his Widow as his Fox. We have routed the Family of the b.u.mpers.

There is nothing now to apprehend from that Quarter. But the main Difficulty is yet behind, which is to induce him to make his Will, for without that my Lady Lovewealth's Avarice never will consent to make my dearest Harriet mine.

(_Enter_ LUCY)

_Lucy._ O Sir, we are all undone!

_Bell._ Why what's the matter?

_Lucy._ Your Uncle, Sir, is dead.

_Bell._ Dead!

_Lucy._ Ay, dead, Sir! Shark with his Tricks and Rogueries has so teazed him that having with much ado got into his Chamber, down he fell upon the Bed, and there he lies without either Motion, Voice, Sense, Pulse or Understanding.

_Bell._ The very means I took to succeed have infallibly ruined me.

(_Enter_ SHARK)

_Shar._ Is he gone? Is the coast clear?

_Bell._ So Villain, your Schemes and Plots have a fine Conclusion, Rascal.

_Shar._ A fine Conclusion, Rascal! I don't know what conclusion they have, but I am sure it can't be worse than this Reward; pray Sir, what has happened?

_Bell._ Why you have killed my Uncle, Villain, and ruined me forever.

_Shar._ What! Is the old Fellow dead?

_Bell._ Yes, Rascal, and without a Will.

_Shar._ This is now an Instance of the Judgment and Grat.i.tude of Mankind; if I had succeeded, I should have been a second Machiavel, and my dear Shark, I shall be ever obliged to you--but now I am a Rascal and a Son of a Wh.o.r.e, a Blockhead and deserve my Bones broke.

_Bell._ Well Sir, no upbraiding now, but tell what is to be done.

_Shar._ What's to be done? What should be done, Sir. Break open his Coffers, his Cabinet, his Strong Box, seize upon his Mortgage Deeds, and Writings, but above all take a particular Care of the Bank Bills, and the ready Cash. I have a great Veneration for them; they will tell no tales to your Fellow Heirs, and as the old Man has bit you, why do you plunder them. Do you take Possession and I'll engage I procure a Lawyer who shall prove it to be something more than eleven points of the Law.

_Bell._ But then my Harriet, Shark! Without her the Wealth of Mexico is useless and insipid.

_Shar._ Upon my Soul, Sir, begging your Pardon, you make as ridiculous a Figure in this Business as a disappointed Lover in a Play; why Sir, our Farce is now in the very Height of the Plot, and it is impossible you can have your Mistress 'till it be ended.

_Bell._ Nor then either I am afraid.

_Shar._ Lord, Sir, you are too hasty. You are like the ignorant part of an Audience the first night of a new Play; you will have things brought about before their time. Go and take Possession of the a.s.sets, I tell you, and leave the rest to the Devil and the Law. Get them on our side, and I'll engage you prosper in any Roguery.

_Bell._ Well, I'll go--but I see no glimmering of hope from it.

(_Exit Bellair_)

_Shar._ Lucy, do you shut up all the Windows and lock up the door.

_Lucy._ That's impossible, for Mr. Littlewit and Doctor Leatherhead are below with the Marriage Articles.

_Shar._ O the Devil! Then we are all ruined again. Hold--ha--ay--I have a thought. Lucy, do the Lawyers know of the old Man's Death?

_Lucy._ Not a word. They are but this minute come in.

_Shar._ Then keep it an entire Secret--I'll clinch the whole Affair this Instant.--Get me the old Man's Gown--and Cap--his Slippers, his Pillow, his Flannels and all his Trumpery.

_Lucy._ Here they all are upon the Table where he shifted.

_Shar._ Give 'em me, quick, quick--ask no questions--so--now my Cap--my gouty Slippers, my Flannels for my hands, here, here, pin them on, pin them on, quick--quick, so! And now my great Chair--and now I am d.a.m.nable ill--O sick, sick,--Auh--Auh--Auh! Go and tell my Master how I am transmogrified, do you hear, and bid him not be surprized let what will happen, but first send up the Lawyers. (_Exit Lucy_) Lawyers have often made false Wills for their own Interests, and I see no reason now why they mayn't make one for mine. I am sure I have as good a t.i.tle to be a Rogue as any of them all, for my Father was an Irish Solicitor, my Mother a Yorkshire Gipsy, I was begotten in Wales, born in Scotland, and brought up at that famous University of St. Giles pound, and now he who has a better Right to be a Rogue than me, let him put in his Claim. Tho' I believe n.o.body will dispute it with me, it is all my own today; when I come to Westminster Hall I'll resign.

(_Enter_ BELLAIR, LUCY, _Doctor_ LEATHERHEAD, _and Mr._ LITTLEWIT, [_with_] _Pens, Ink, Papers, Candles, etc., etc._)

_Shar._ So Gentlemen, when I sent for you in the Morning, I was foolish enough to think of Marriage, but Heaven pardon me, I must now think of Death, of my poor precious Soul. I must desire you to get my Will ready as soon as possible, for I fear my poor fleeting Life is not worth half an Hour's purchase.

_Doct._ The sooner it is done, the better; it may procure you Ease and Consolation of mind.

_Shar._ Dear Doctor Leatherhead, hold your Tongue; the less you talk, the more it will be to the purpose, I am sure. Nephew, draw near.

Lucy, take those Candles out of my Eyes, and shut that Door.

_Lucy._ Sir, my Lady Lovewealth has sent her Daughter to wait on you, and my Lady will be here herself immediately.

_Shar._ Very well, let my wife that was to be come up--and let her know how Affairs are, Lucy. (_Aside to Lucy_) (_Exit Lucy_)

_Little._ (_At the Table writing_) Um, um, Sir Isaac Skinflint of the Parish of um--sound sense--um weak in Body--uncertainty of human Life--um--last Will and Testament--Now Sir, we are ready; I have finished the Preamble.

_Doct._ But Sir Isaac, should not this Will be made in Private? We always choose to have as few Witnesses by as possible.

_Shar._ I believe you, Doctor Leatherhead, that they may produce the more Law Suits. Ay, ay, Doctor, I know the tricks of the Law; the more Grist, the more Toll for the Miller--but you shall not fill your Bags out of my Sack, you Harpies, you Cormorants, you Devourers! O you Bloodsuckers! Auh, auh!

_Doct._ I find Sir Isaac still the same Man.

_Little._ No matter, Doctor; as it is the last Business we shall do for him, he shall pay swingingly.