Bib. This must be me.
Boy. I can hear neither tale nor tidings of him: I have searched him in all his haunts; amongst his creditors; and in all companies where they are like to break the least jest. I have visited the coffee-houses for him; but among all the news there, I heard none of him.
Bib. Good, i' faith.
Lov. Where's the warrant? I'll put in my own name, since I cannot find him.
Boy. Sir, I gave it a scrivener at next door, because I could not write, to fill up the blank place with Mr Bibber's name.
Lov. What an unlucky vermin 'tis! now, for an hundred pound, could I have gratified him with a waiter's place at the custom-house, that had been worth to him an hundred pound a-year upon the nail.
Bib. Could you so, could you so, sir? give me your hand, and I thank you heartily, Mr Loveby.
Lov. Art thou honest Will? faith, 'tis not worth thy thanks, till it be done: I wish I had the money for thee.
Bib. How much is't, sir?
Lov. An hundred pounds would do it.