VAL. 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?
TRAP. No, no, there’s no such thing; we’d better mind our business. You’re a wag.
VAL. 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?
TRAP. Verily, give me a glass. You’re a wag,—and here’s to the widow. [_Drinks_.]
SCAN. He begins to chuckle; ply him close, or he’ll relapse into a dun.
OFF. By your leave, gentlemen: Mr. Trapland, if we must do our office, tell us. We have half a dozen gentlemen to arrest in Pall Mall and Covent Garden; and if we don’t make haste the chairmen will be abroad, and block up the chocolate-houses, and then our labour’s lost.
TRAP. Udso that’s true: Mr. Valentine, I love mirth, but business must be done. Are you ready to—
JERE. Sir, your father’s steward says he comes to make proposals concerning your debts.
VAL. Bid him come in: Mr. Trapland, send away your officer; you shall have an answer presently.
VALENTINE, SCANDAL, TRAPLAND, JEREMY, STEWARD _who whispers_ VALENTINE.
SCAN. Here’s a dog now, a traitor in his wine: sirrah, refund the sack.—Jeremy, fetch him some warm water, or I’ll rip up his stomach, and go the shortest way to his conscience.
TRAP. Mr. Scandal, you are uncivil; I did not value your sack; but you cannot expect it again when I have drunk it.
SCAN. And how do you expect to have your money again when a gentleman has spent it?
VAL. You need say no more, I understand the conditions; they are very hard, but my necessity is very pressing: I agree to ’em. Take Mr. Trapland with you, and let him draw the writing. Mr. Trapland, you know this man: he shall satisfy you.
TRAP. Sincerely, I am loth to be thus pressing, but my necessity—
VAL. No apology, good Mr. Scrivener, you shall be paid.
TRAP. I hope you forgive me; my business requires—
SCAN. He begs pardon like a hangman at an execution.
SCAN. I am surprised; what, does your father relent?