FAST. I beg your pardon—well I am sorry you are going to leave—you are such a nice obliging young woman, and I was going to ask you if you couldn’t manage to—to give this letter.
REBECCA. To my master!
FAST. No, not exactly that, Rebecca, to your mistress.
REBECCA. Indeed, sir! I shall do nothing of the sort, you had better give it her yourself.
FAST. But I should never have the face, I tell you. There is something about Mrs. Bobbins that keeps me so completely at a distance, something so modest, so correct and proper—come, now, you are not going to be illnatured, see here’s a queen’s head for it. (showing her half a crown)
REBECCA. Sir, I’m ashamed of you, I’ll have nothing to do with it!
FAST. Only give her the letter, and I’ll help you to a place.
REBECCA. No, will you though? (eyeing the money which he forces on her, with the letter) No! really I can’t! no, no! Well if you insist upon my taking the money—(aside—taking the money) But I’ll be hanged if I give her the letter.
FAST. Yes, I know of a place that will suit you exactly, without your going out of the house. Mrs. Duval on the second floor here is in want of just such a pretty, clever girl as you are, to help her in her fancy work.
REBECCA. Why how did you come to know her, sir?