Land. Meddle with your matters—let me see, the Caudle Cup that Molly’s Grandmother left her, will pawn for about that sum—I’ll sneak it out—well, Sir, you shall have your things presently—trouble not your head, but expect me.
[Ex. Landlady and Rag.
Gay. Was ever man put to such beastly shifts? ‘Sdeath, how she stunk— my senses are most luxuriously regal’d—there’s my perpetual Musick too—
[Knocking of Hammers on a Anvil.
The ringing of Bells is an Ass to’t.
Enter Rag.
Rag. Sir, there’s one in a Coach below wou’d speak to you.
Gay. With me, and in a Coach! who can it be?
Rag. The Devil, I think, for he has a strange Countenance.
Gay. The Devil! shew your self a Rascal of Parts, Sirrah, and wait on him up with Ceremony.