[Footnote A: Alluding to the ancient weapon called the bill; a never-failing source of puns in old plays.]
Bib. Pray, sir, trouble not yourself; 'tis nothing; i'feck now 'tis not.
Lov. How nothing, sir?
Fran. An't, please your worship, it was seventeen pounds and a noble yesterday at noon, your worship knows: And then your worship came home ill last night, and complained of your worship's head; and I sent for three dishes of tea for your good worship, and that was six pence more, and please your worship's honour.
Lov. Well; there's eighteen pieces, tell 'em.
Bib. I say, Frances, do not take 'em.
Lov, What, is all your pleading of necessity come to this?
Bib. Now I see he will pay, he shall not pay. Frances, go home, and fetch him the whole bag of forty pounds; I'll lend it him, and the lease of the house too; he shall want for nothing.
Lov. Take the money, or I'll leave your house.
Bib. Nay, rather than displease his worship, take it. [She takes it.