Simon. Hee! hee!
Job. Hee, hee!—Damn your Land'send chops! 'tis to get me to your master:—but, before you have it, though he keeps a gentleman-justice-shop, I shall make free to ring it on his counter. [Throws it on the Floor.] There! pick it up. [Simon picks up the money.] I am afraid you are not the first underling that has stoop'd to pocket a bribe, before he'd do his duty.—Now, tell the gentleman-justice, I want to see him.
Simon. I'll try what I can do for you.
[Exit.
Job. What makes you tremble so, Mary?
Mary. I can't help it:—I wish I could persuade you to go back again.
Job. I'll stay till the roof falls, but I'll see some of 'em.
Mary. Indeed, you don't know how you terrify me. But, if you go to Sir Simon, you'll leave me here in the hall;—you won't make me go with you, father?
Job. Not take you with me.—I'll go with my wrongs in my hand, and make him blush for his son.
Mary. I hope you'll think better of it.