_Brass._ Well, surely thro' the world's wide extent, there never appeared so impudent a fellow as my schoolfellow _Dick_, pass himself upon the town for a gentleman, drop into all the best company with an easy air, as if his natural element were in the sphere of quality; when the rogue had a kettle-drum to his father, who was hang'd for robbing a church, and has a pedlar to his mother, who carries her shop under her arm. But here he comes. _Enter ~Dick~._ _Dick._ Well, _Brass_, what news? Hast thou given my letter to _Flippanta_? _Brass._ I'm but just come; I han't knock'd at the door yet. But I have a damn'd piece of news for you. _Dick._ As how? _Brass._ We must quit this country. _Dick._ We'll be hang'd first. _Brass._ So you will if you stay. _Dick._ Why, what's the matter? _Brass._ There's a storm a coming. _Dick._ From whence? _Brass._ From the worst point in the compass, the law. _Dick._ The law! Why what have I to do with the law? _Brass._ Nothing; and therefore it has something to do with you. _Dick._ Explain. _Brass._ You know you cheated a young fellow at picquet t'other day, of the money he had to raise his company. _Dick._ Well, what then? _Brass._ Why he's sorry he lost it. _Dick._ Who doubts that? _Brass._ Ay, but that's not all, he's such a fool to think of complaining on't. _Dick._ Then I must be so wise as to stop his mouth. _Brass._ How? _Dick._ Give him a little back; if that won't do, strangle him. _Brass._ You are very quick in your methods. _Dick._ Men must be so that will dispatch business. _Brass._ Hark you, Colonel, your father dy'd in's bed? _Dick._ He might have done if he had not been a fool. _Brass._ Why, he robbed a church. _Dick._ Ay, but he forgot to make sure of the sexton. _Brass._ Are not you a great rogue? _Dick._ Or I should wear worse clothes. _Brass._ Hark you, I would advise you to change your life. _Dick._ And turn ballad-singer. _Brass._ Not so neither. _Dick._ What then? _Brass._ Why, if you can get this young wench, reform, and live honest. _Dick._ That's the way to be starv'd. _Brass._ No, she has money enough to buy you a good place, and pay me into the bargain for helping her to so good a match. You have but this throw left to save you, for you are not ignorant, youngster, that your morals begin to be pretty well known about town; have a care your noble birth and your honourable relations are not discovered too: there needs but that to have you toss'd in a blanket, for the entertainment of the first company of ladies you intrude into: and then like a dutiful son, you may dangle about with your mother, and sell paint: she's old and weak, and wants somebody to carry her goods after her. How like a dog will you look, with a pair of plod shoes, your hair crop'd up to your ears, and a band-box under your arm?