L. _Ful_. Not at his Uncle’s in _Northamptonshire_? _Bred_. Your Ladyship was wont to credit me. L. _Ful_. Forgive me--you went to a Black-Smith’s-- _Bred_. Yes, Madam; and at the door encountred the beastly thing he calls a Landlady; who lookt as if she had been of her own Husband’s making, compos’d of moulded Smith’s Dust. I ask’d for Mr. _Wasteall_, and she began to open--and did so rail at him, that what with her _Billinsgate_, and her Husband’s hammers, I was both deaf and dumb--at last the hammers ceas’d, and she grew weary, and call’d down Mr. _Wasteall_; but he not answering--I was sent up a Ladder rather than a pair of Stairs; at last I scal’d the top, and enter’d the inchanted Castle; there did I find him, spite of the noise below, drowning his Cares in Sleep. L. _Ful_. Whom foundst thou? _Gayman_? _Bred_. He, Madam, whom I waked--and seeing me, Heavens, what Confusion seiz’d him! which nothing but my own Surprize could equal. Asham’d--he wou’d have turn’d away; But when he saw, by my dejected Eyes, I knew him, He sigh’d, and blusht, and heard me tell my Business: Then beg’d I wou’d be secret; for he vow’d his whole Repose and Life depended on my silence. Nor had I told it now, But that your Ladyship may find some speedy means to draw him from this desperate Condition. L. _Ful_. Heavens, is’t possible? _Bred_. He’s driven to the last degree of Poverty-- Had you but seen his Lodgings, Madam! L. _Ful_. What were they? _Bred_. ‘Tis a pretty convenient Tub, Madam. He may lie a long in’t, there’s just room for an old join’d Stool besides the Bed, which one cannot call a Cabin, about the largeness of a Pantry Bin, or a Usurer’s Trunk; there had been Dornex Curtains to’t in the days of Yore; but they were now annihilated, and nothing left to save his Eyes from the Light, but my Landlady’s Blue Apron, ty’d by the strings before the Window, in which stood a broken six-penny Looking-Glass, that shew’d as many Faces as the Scene in _Henry_ the Eighth, which could but just stand upright, and then the Comb-Case fill’d it. L. _Ful_. What a leud Description hast thou made of his Chamber? _Bred_. Then for his Equipage, ‘tis banisht to one small Monsieur, who (saucy with his Master’s Poverty) is rather a Companion than a Footman. L. _Ful_. But what said he to the Forfeiture of his Land? _Bred_. He sigh’d and cry’d, Why, farewel dirty Acres; It shall not trouble me, since ‘twas all but for Love! L. _Ful_. How much redeems it? _Bred_. Madam, five hundred Pounds. L. _Ful_. Enough--you shall in some disguise convey this Money to him, as from an unknown hand: I wou’d not have him think it comes from me, for all the World: That Nicety and Virtue I’ve profest, I am resolved to keep. _Pert_. If I were your Ladyship, I wou’d make use of Sir _Cautious’s_ Cash: pay him in his own Coin. _Bred_. Your Ladyship wou’d make no Scruple of it, if you knew how this poor Gentleman has been us’d by my unmerciful Master.