Cher. He don't belong to our gang. [330]
Bon. What horses have they?
Cher. The master rides upon a black.
Bon. A black! ten to one the man upon the black mare; and since he don't belong to our fraternity, we may betray him with a safe conscience: I don't think it lawful to harbour any rogues but my own. Look'ee, child, as the saying is, we must go cunningly to work, proofs we must have; the gentleman's servant loves drink, I'll ply him that way, and ten to one loves a wench: you must work him t' other way. [341]
Cher. Father, would you have me give my secret for his?
Bon. Consider, child, there's two hundred pound to boot.—[Ringing without.] Coming! coming!—Child, mind your business. [Exit.
Cher. What a rogue is my father! My father! I deny it. My mother was a good, generous, free-hearted woman, and I can't tell how far her good nature might have extended for the good of her children. This landlord of mine, for I think I can call him no more, would betray his guest, and debauch his daughter into the bargain—by a footman too!
Re-enter Archer.
Arch. What footman, pray, mistress, is so happy as to be the subject of your contemplation? [355]
Cher. Whoever he is, friend, he'll be but little the better for't.
