[_Pulling off his hat and bowing._] Your very humble servant, good Mr. Campley. Ay, this is poetry--this is a song indeed! Faith, I'll set it, and sing it myself. Pray pay to Mr. William Trim--so far in recitativo--three hundred [_singing ridiculously_]--hun--dred--hundred--hundred thrice repeated, because 'tis three hundred pounds--I love repetitions in music, when there's a good reason for it,--po--unds after the Italian manner. If they'd bring me such sensible words as these, I'd outstrip all your composers for the music prize. This was honestly done of Mr. Campley, though I have carried him many a purse from my master when he was ensign to our Company in Flanders---- _Enter_ LORD HARDY. My lord, I am your lordship's humble servant. _Ld. H._ Sir, your humble servant. But pray, my good familiar friend, how come you to be so very much my humble servant all of a sudden? _Trim._ I beg pardon, dear sir, my lord, I am not your humble servant. _Ld. H._ No! _Trim._ Yes, my lord, I am, but not as you mean; but I am--I am, my lord--in short, I'm overjoyed. _Ld. H._ Overjoyed! thou'rt distracted, what ails the fellow? Where's Campley's song? _Trim._ Oh! my lord, one would not think 'twas in him. Mr. Campley's really a very great poet; as for the song, 'tis only as they all end in rhyme: Ow--woe--isses--kisses--boy--joy. But, my lord, the other in long heroic blank verse. [_Reading it with a great tone._ Pray pay to Mr. William Trim, or order, the sum of--How sweetly it runs! Pactolian guineas chink every line. _Ld. H._ How very handsomely this was done in Campley! I wondered, indeed, he was so willing to show his verses. In how careless a manner that fellow does the greatest actions! _Trim._ My lord, pray my lord, shan't I go immediately to Cutpurse's? _Ld. H._ No, sirrah, now we have no occasion for it. _Trim._ No, my lord, only to stare him full in the face after I have received this money, not say a word, but keep my hat on, and walk out. Or perhaps not hear, if any I meet with speak to me, but grow stiff, deaf, and shortsighted to all my old acquaintance, like a sudden rich man as I am. Or, perhaps, my lord, desire Cutpurse's clerk to let me leave fifty pounds at their house, payable to Mr. William Trim, or order, till I come that way, or, a month or two hence, may have occasion for it: I don't know what bills may be drawn upon me. Then when the clerk begins to stare at me, till he pulls the great goose-quill from behind his ear [_Pulls a handfull of farthings out_] I fall a-reckoning the pieces as I do these farthings.