VAL. I was much obliged to you for your supply. It did me signal service in my necessity. But you delight in doing good. Scandal, drink to me, my friend Trapland’s health. An honester man lives not, nor one more ready to serve his friend in distress: though I say it to his face. Come, fill each man his glass. SCAN. What, I know Trapland has been a whoremaster, and loves a wench still. You never knew a whoremaster that was not an honest fellow. TRAP. Fie, Mr. Scandal, you never knew— SCAN. What don’t I know? I know the buxom black widow in the Poultry. £800 a year jointure, and £20,000 in money. Aha! old Trap. VAL. Say you so, i’faith? Come, we’ll remember the widow. I know whereabouts you are; come, to the widow— TRAP. No more, indeed. VAL. What, the widow’s health; give it him—off with it. [_They drink_.] A lovely girl, i’faith, black sparkling eyes, soft pouting ruby lips! Better sealing there than a bond for a million, ha? TRAP. No, no, there’s no such thing; we’d better mind our business. You’re a wag. VAL. No, faith, we’ll mind the widow’s business: fill again. Pretty round heaving breasts, a Barbary shape, and a jut with her bum would stir an anchoret: and the prettiest foot! Oh, if a man could but fasten his eyes to her feet as they steal in and out, and play at bo-peep under her petticoats, ah! Mr. Trapland? TRAP. Verily, give me a glass. You’re a wag,—and here’s to the widow. [_Drinks_.] SCAN. He begins to chuckle; ply him close, or he’ll relapse into a dun. SCENE VI. [_To them_] OFFICER. OFF. By your leave, gentlemen: Mr. Trapland, if we must do our office, tell us. We have half a dozen gentlemen to arrest in Pall Mall and Covent Garden; and if we don’t make haste the chairmen will be abroad, and block up the chocolate-houses, and then our labour’s lost. TRAP. Udso that’s true: Mr. Valentine, I love mirth, but business must be done. Are you ready to— JERE. Sir, your father’s steward says he comes to make proposals concerning your debts. VAL. Bid him come in: Mr. Trapland, send away your officer; you shall have an answer presently. TRAP. Mr. Snap, stay within call. SCENE VII. VALENTINE, SCANDAL, TRAPLAND, JEREMY, STEWARD _who whispers_ VALENTINE. SCAN. Here’s a dog now, a traitor in his wine: sirrah, refund the sack.—Jeremy, fetch him some warm water, or I’ll rip up his stomach, and go the shortest way to his conscience. TRAP. Mr. Scandal, you are uncivil; I did not value your sack; but you cannot expect it again when I have drunk it. SCAN. And how do you expect to have your money again when a gentleman has spent it? VAL. You need say no more, I understand the conditions; they are very hard, but my necessity is very pressing: I agree to ’em. Take Mr. Trapland with you, and let him draw the writing. Mr. Trapland, you know this man: he shall satisfy you.