_ Nothing particular, sir. Where is Lady Handy going?
_Sir Abel._ To dress.
_Handy, jun._ I suppose she has found out the use of money.
_Sir Abel._ Yes; I'll do her the justice to say she encourages
trade.--Why, do you know, Bob, my best coal pit won't find her in white
muslins--round her neck hangs an hundred acres at least; my noblest oaks
have made wigs for her; my fat oxen have dwindled into Dutch pugs, and
white mice; my India bonds are transmuted into shawls and otto of roses;
and a magnificent mansion has shrunk into a diamond snuff-box.
_Enter_ COUNTRYMAN.
_Coun._ Gentlemen, the folks be all got together, and the ploughs be
ready--and----
_Sir Abel._ We are coming. [_Exit_ SERVANT.
_Handy, jun._ Ploughs?
_Sir Abel._ Yes, Bob, we are going to have a grand agricultural meeting.
_Handy, jun._ Indeed!
_Sir Abel._ If I could but find a man able to manage my new-invented
_curricle_ plough, none of them would have a chance.
_Handy, jun._ My dear sir, if there be any thing on earth I can do, it
is that.
_Sir Abel.
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