This demand galled and perplexed the old man to such a degree

This demand galled and perplexed the old man to such a degree, that the muscles of his face assumed a contraction peculiarly virulent, and exhibited the character of Diogenes with a most lively expression; he knew that a confession of his true situation would furnish Pickle with an opportunity to make reprisals upon him, with intolerable triumph; and that, by a downright refusal to supply his wants, he would for ever forfeit his friendship and esteem, and might provoke him to take ample vengeance for his sordid behaviour, by exposing him, in his native colours, to the resentment of those whom he had so long deceived. These considerations kept him some time in a most rancorous state of suspense, which Peregrine affected to misinterpret, by bidding him freely declare his suspicion, if he did not think it safe to comply with his request, and he would make shift elsewhere.
This seeming misconstruction increased the torture of the misanthrope, who, with the utmost irritation of feature, “Oons!” cried he, “what villainy have you noted in my conduct, that you treat me like a rascally usurer?” Peregrine very gravely replied, that the question needed no answer; “for,” said he, “had I considered you as a usurer, I would have come with a security under my arm; but, all evasion apart, will you stead me? will you pleasure me? shall I have the money?”—“Would it were in your belly, with a barrel of gunpowder!” exclaimed the enraged cynic; “since I must be excruciated, read that plaguy paper! ‘Sblood! why didn’t nature clap a pair of long ears and a tail upon me, that I might be a real ass, and champ thistles on some common, independent of my fellow-creatures? Would I were a worm, that I might creep into the earth, and thatch my habitation with a single straw; or rather a wasp or a viper, that I might make the rascally world feel my resentment. But why do I talk of rascality? folly, folly, is the scourge of life! Give me a scoundrel, so he be a sensible one, and I will put him in my heart of hearts! but a fool is more mischievous than famine, pestilence, and war. The idiotical hag that writes, or causes to be writ, this same letter, has ruined her family, and broke her husband’s heart, by ignorance and mismanagement; and she imputes her calamity to Providence with a vengeance; and so I am defrauded of three hundred pounds, the greatest part of which I owe to tradesmen, whom I have promised to pay this very quarter. Pox upon her! I would she were a horned beast, that the distemper might lay hold on her. The beldame has the impudence too, after she has brought me into this dilemma, to solicit my assistance to stock the farm anew! Before God, I have a good mind to send her a halter, and perhaps I might purchase another for myself, but that I would not furnish food for laughter to knaves and coxcombs.”