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Page 39
"Sir, do you think I am made of Money, or can you imagine the
Treasure of a Nation will supply your Extravagance? The Value I have
for you on Account of your Father, who was my good Friend, has made
me tire all my Acquaintance, by borrowing of them to furnish your
Pockets: However, I'll try, if I cannot borrow One Thousand more for
you, tho' I wish your Estate will bear it, and that I don't out of
my Love to you, rashly bring myself into Trouble. You know I am
engaged for all; and if the Mortgage you have given should not be
valid, I am an undone Man. I can't, I protest, raise this Money
under Fifteen _per Cent_, and it's cheap, very cheap, considering
how scarce a Commodity it is grown. It's a Pity so generous a young
Gentleman should be straiten'd. I don't question a Pair of Gloves
for the Trouble I have. I know you too well to insist on't: I am old
and crazy, Coach-hire is very dear, I can't walk, God help me, and
my Circumstances won't afford a Coach. A Couple of Guineas is a
Trifle with you: I'll get you the Thousand Pound, if I can, at
Fifteen _per Cent._ but if my Friend should insist on Twenty (for
Money is very hard to be got with the best Security) must I refuse
it? Yes; I can't suffer you to pay such an exorbitant Premium; it is
too much, too much in Conscience; I can't advise you to it."
The young Gentleman answer'd, he was sensible of his Friendship, and
left all to him.
"Well, well, _said the Miser_, come again two Hours hence, I'll see
what's to be done."
He went away, t'other barr'd the Door after him, and falls to rummaging
his Bags, and telling out the Sum to be lent to the young Gentleman:
When, on a sudden, his Doors flew open, and a Couple of Rogues bound him
in his Bed, and went off laden with Baggs. Soon after, a meagre Servant
comes in, and unbinds him; he tears his Hair, raves, stamps, and has all
the Gestures of a Madman; he sends the Servant out, takes a Halter,
throws it over a Beam, and going to hang himself, vanishes.
Soon after, he appeared again with Officers, who hurry the young
Gentleman to Goal. He follows him, gets his Estate made over to him, and
then sets his Prisoner at Liberty: The Scene of the Goal vanishes, and
he's in a noble Mansion-Seat with the young Gentleman in Rags, who gives
him Possession, and receives a Trifle from him for that Consideration.
He turns away all the Servants, and in a Palace he is alone roasting an
Egg over a Handful of Fire for his Dinner. His Son comes in, as he is by
himself, goes to murder him, and he vanishes again. He returns to our
Sight, digging in his Garden, and hiding Money, for Soldiers appear in
the neighbouring Village: He has scarce buried it, when they rifle his
House; this makes us lose him again for a little Space. His Coachman
comes to him, tells him his Son is kill'd; he answers,
"No matter, he was a great Expence, I shall save at least Forty
Pounds a Year by his Death, it's a good Legacy, _Tom_."
He tells him a Lord offer'd him Five Hundred Pounds to carry off his
young Lady, but that he refused it, and thought himself obliged to
acquaint him with his Lordship's Design.
"You are a Fool, _replies the old Man_; take the Money, I'll consent,
we'll snack it--Quit of another. My Lord shan't have a Groat with
her. What a Charge are Children! This Lord is the best Friend I have,
to take her off my Hands. To be sure bring the Money, carry her to
my Lord, and bring the Money; go take Time by the Fore-lock, he may
recant, then so much Money's lost. Go, run to my Lord, tell him
you'll do it."
Here he thrust the Fellow out, and appear'd with a smiling Countenance.
A Man comes in, and tells him the Exchequer is shut up, Stocks are
fallen, a War declar'd, and a new Tax laid on Land; he beats his Breast,
groans aloud, and vanishes.
"By this Wretch, _said Abrahijo_, you see the Care and Anxiety wait
on the Miserable. The Love of Gold in him has extinguish'd Nature;
nay, it predominates over Self-love; for he hastens his End, by not
allowing his Body either Rest, or sufficient Nourishment, only that
he may encrease the Number of his Coffers."
Another Shade appear'd with a great Crowd of People, huzzaing, a
_Venditor_, a _Venditor_; he goes before them, steps into every Shop,
enquires after the Health of each Family, kisses the Wives, and out of
his thrusts Gold into their Mouths. Here he bows to a Tinker, there
embraces a Cobler, shakes a Scavinger by the Hand, stands bare-headed,
and compliments an Ale-Wife, invites a Score of Shoemakers, Taylors,
Pedlars, Weavers, and Hostlers, to do him the Honour of their Company
to Dinner.
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