VAL. You are as inveterate against our poets as if your character had been lately exposed upon the stage. Nay, I am not violently bent upon the trade. [_One knocks_.] Jeremy, see who’s there. [JER. _goes to the door_.] But tell me what you would have me do? What do the world say of me, and my forced confinement?
SCAN. The world behaves itself as it uses to do on such occasions; some pity you, and condemn your father; others excuse him, and blame you; only the ladies are merciful, and wish you well, since love and pleasurable expense have been your greatest faults.
JERE. Nothing new, sir; I have despatched some half a dozen duns with as much dexterity as a hungry judge does causes at dinner-time.
SCAN. Patience, I suppose, the old receipt.
JERE. No, faith, sir; I have put ’em off so long with patience and forbearance, and other fair words, that I was forced now to tell ’em in plain downright English—
VAL. And how the devil do you mean to keep your word?
JERE. Keep it? Not at all; it has been so very much stretched that I reckon it will break of course by to-morrow, and nobody be surprised at the matter. [_Knocking_.] Again! Sir, if you don’t like my negotiation, will you be pleased to answer these yourself?
VAL. By this, Scandal, you may see what it is to be great; secretaries of state, presidents of the council, and generals of an army lead just such a life as I do; have just such crowds of visitants in a morning, all soliciting of past promises; which are but a civiller sort of duns, that lay claim to voluntary debts.
SCAN. And you, like a true great man, having engaged their attendance, and promised more than ever you intended to perform, are more perplexed to find evasions than you would be to invent the honest means of keeping your word, and gratifying your creditors.
VAL. Scandal, learn to spare your friends, and do not provoke your enemies; this liberty of your tongue will one day bring a confinement on your body, my friend.
JERE. O sir, there’s Trapland the scrivener, with two suspicious fellows like lawful pads, that would knock a man down with pocket-tipstaves. And there’s your father’s steward, and the nurse with one of your children from Twitnam.
VAL. Pox on her, could she find no other time to fling my sins in my face? Here, give her this, [_gives money_] and bid her trouble me no more; a thoughtless two-handed whore, she knows my condition well enough, and might have overlaid the child a fortnight ago, if she had had any forecast in her.