_Aim._ Good supper meat, I must confess----I can't eat beef, landlord. _Arch._ And I hate pig. _Aim._ Hold your prating, sirrah! do you know who you are? [_Aside._ _Bon._ Please to bespeak something else; I have every thing in the house. _Aim._ Have you any veal? _Bon._ Veal, sir! we had a delicate loin of veal on Wednesday last. _Aim._ Have you got any fish, or wild fowl? _Bon._ As for fish, truly, sir, we are an inland town, and indifferently provided with fish, that's the truth on't; but then for wild fowl!--We have a delicate couple of rabbits. _Aim._ Get me the rabbits fricasseed. _Bon._ Fricasseed! Lard, sir, they'll eat much better smothered with onions. _Arch._ Pshaw! Rot your onions. _Aim._ Again, sirrah;----Well, landlord, what you please; but hold, I have a small charge of money, and your house is so full of strangers, that I believe it may be safer in your custody than mine; for when this fellow of mine gets drunk, he minds nothing--Here, sirrah, reach me the strong box. _Arch._ Yes, sir,----this will give us reputation. [_Aside.--Brings the Box._ _Aim._ Here, landlord, the locks are sealed down, both for your security and mine; it holds somewhat above two hundred pounds; if you doubt it, I'll count it to you after supper: But be sure you lay it where I may have it at a minute's warning: for my affairs are a little dubious at present; perhaps I may be gone in half an hour, perhaps I may be your guest till the best part of that be spent; and pray order your ostler to keep my horses ready saddled: But one thing above the rest I must beg, that you would let this fellow have none of your Anno Domini, as you call it;--for he's the most insufferable sot----Here, sirrah, light me to my chamber. _Arch._ Yes, sir! [_Exit, lighted by_ ARCHER. _Bon._ Cherry, daughter Cherry. _Enter_ CHERRY. _Cher._ D'ye call, father? _Bon._ Ay, child, you must lay by this box for the gentleman, 'tis full of money. _Cher._ Money! all that money! why sure, father, the gentleman comes to be chosen parliament man. Who is he? _Bon._ I don't know what to make of him; he talks of keeping his horses ready saddled, and of going, perhaps, at a minute's warning; or of staying, perhaps, till the best part of this be spent. _Cher._ Ay! ten to one, father, he's a highwayman. _Bon._ A highwayman! upon my life, girl, you have hit it, and this box is some new purchased booty.--Now, could we find him out, the money were ours. _Cher._ He don't belong to our gang. _Bon._ What horses have they? _Cher._ The master rides upon a black. _Bon._ A black! ten to one the man upon the black mare: and since he don't belong to our fraternity, we may betray him with a safe conscience: I don't think it lawful to harbour any rogues but my own. Lookye, child, as the saying is, we must go cunningly to work; proofs we must have; the gentleman's servant loves drink; I'll ply him that way, and ten to one he loves a wench; you must work him t'other way.