“But how comes it,” said I, “that you have not coupled the women with the thieves? for they are both of a trade.” “Not a word of women as ye love me,” quoth the devil, “for we are so tired out with their importunities; so deafened with the eternal clack of their tongues, that we start at the very thought of them. And to say the truth, hell were no ill winter quarter, if it were not so overstocked with that sort of cattle. Since the death of the Witch of Endor, it has been all their business to improve themselves in subtlety and malice, and to set us together by the ears among ourselves. Nay some of them are confident enough, to tell us to our teeth, that when we have done our worst, they’ll give us a Rowland for our Oliver. Only this comfort we have, that they are a cheaper plague to us, than they are to you; for we have no Exchanges, Hyde Parks, or Spring Gardens in our territories.”
“You are well stored then with women, I see, but of which have you most?” said I, “handsome, or ill-favoured?” “Oh, of the ill-favoured, six for one,” quoth the devil, “for your beauties can never want gallants to lay their appetites; and many of them, when they come at last to have their bellies full, e’en give over the sport, repent and ’scape. Whereas nobody will touch the ill-favoured without a pair of tongs; and for want of water to quench their fire, they come to us such skeletons, that they are enough to affright the devil himself. For they are most commonly, old, and accompany their last groans with a curse upon the younger that are to survive them. I carried away one t’other day of threescore and ten, that I took just in the nick, as she was upon a certain exercise to remove obstructions: and when I came to land her, alas for the poor woman! what a terrible fit had she got of the toothache! when upon search, the devil a tooth had she left in her head, only she belied her chops to save her credit.”
“You have exceedingly satisfied me,” said I, “in all your answers; but pray’e once again, what store of beggars have ye in hell? Poor people I mean.” “Poor,” quoth the devil, “who are they?” “Those,” said I, “that have no possessions in the world.” “How can that be,” quoth he, “that those should be damned, that have nothing in the world? when men are only damned for cleaving to’t. And briefly I find none of their names in our books, which is no wonder, for he that has nothing to trust to, shall be left by the devil himself in time of need. To deal plainly with you, where have you greater devils than your flatterers, false friends, lewd company, envious persons, than a son, a brother, or a relation, that lies in wait for your life to get your fortune, that mourns over you in your sickness, and wishes you already at the devil. Now the poor have none of this; they are neither flattered, nor envied, nor befriended, nor accompanied: there’s no gaping for their possessions; and in short, they are a sort of people that live well, and die better; and there are some of them, that would not exchange their rags for royalty itself: they are at liberty to go and come at pleasure, be it war or peace; free from cares, taxes, and public duties. They fear no judgments or executions, but live as inviolable as if their persons were sacred. Moreover they take no thoughts for tomorrow, but setting a just value on their hours, they are good husbands of the present; considering that what is past, is as good as dead, and what’s to come, uncertain. But they say, ‘When the devil preaches, the world’s near an end.’”