VALENTINE, SCANDAL, TRAPLAND, JEREMY.
VALENTINE Oh, Mr Trapland! My old friend! Welcome. Jeremy, a chair quickly: a bottle of sack and a toast--fly--a chair first.
TRAPLAND A good morning to you, Mr Valentine, and to you, Mr Scandal.
SCANDAL The morning's a very good morning, if you don't spoil it.
VALENTINE Come, sit you down, you know his way.
TRAPLAND [sits.] There is a debt, Mr Valentine, of 1500 pounds of pretty long standing -
VALENTINE I cannot talk about business with a thirsty palate. Sirrah, the sack.
TRAPLAND And I desire to know what course you have taken for the payment?
VALENTINE Faith and troth, I am heartily glad to see you. My service to you. Fill, fill to honest Mr Trapland--fuller.
TRAPLAND Hold, sweetheart: this is not to our business. My service to you, Mr Scandal.
[Drinks.] I have forborne as long -
VALENTINE T'other glass, and then we'll talk. Fill, Jeremy.
TRAPLAND No more, in truth. I have forborne, I say -
VALENTINE Sirrah, fill when I bid you. And how does your handsome daughter? Come, a good husband to her.
[Drinks.] TRAPLAND Thank you. I have been out of this money -
VALENTINE Drink first. Scandal, why do you not drink?
[They drink.] TRAPLAND And, in short, I can be put off no longer.
VALENTINE 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.
SCANDAL What, I know Trapland has been a whoremaster, and loves a wench still. You never knew a whoremaster that was not an honest fellow.
TRAPLAND Fie, Mr Scandal, you never knew -
SCANDAL What don't I know? I know the buxom black widow in the Poultry. 800 pounds a year jointure, and 20,000 pounds in money. Aha! old Trap.
VALENTINE Say you so, i'faith? Come, we'll remember the widow. I know whereabouts you are; come, to the widow -
TRAPLAND No more, indeed.
VALENTINE 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?
TRAPLAND No, no, there's no such thing; we'd better mind our business. You're a wag.
VALENTINE 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?
TRAPLAND Verily, give me a glass. You're a wag,--and here's to the widow.
[Drinks.] SCANDAL He begins to chuckle; ply him close, or he'll relapse into a dun.