TRAPLAND [sits.] There is a debt, Mr Valentine, of 1500 pounds of
pretty long standing -
I cannot talk about business with a thirsty palate. Sirrah,
And I desire to know what course you have taken for the
Faith and troth, I am heartily glad to see you. My service to
you. Fill, fill to honest Mr Trapland--fuller.
Hold, sweetheart: this is not to our business. My service
to you, Mr Scandal. [Drinks.] I have forborne as long -
T'other glass, and then we'll talk. Fill, Jeremy.
No more, in truth. I have forborne, I say -
Sirrah, fill when I bid you. And how does your handsome
daughter? Come, a good husband to her. [Drinks.]
Thank you. I have been out of this money -
Drink first. Scandal, why do you not drink? [They drink.]
And, in short, I can be put off no longer.
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.
What, I know Trapland has been a whoremaster, and loves a
wench still. You never knew a whoremaster that was not an honest
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?
No, no, there's no such thing; we'd better mind our business.
You're a wag.
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?
Verily, give me a glass. You're a wag,--and here's to the
He begins to chuckle; ply him close, or he'll relapse into a