Lov. No, 'tis a dresser's place at court, landlady.
Franc. O gemini! that's better news.
Bib. Aye, but you must make haste and fetch an hundred pieces: I can assure you five hundred are bidden for it: And the courtiers are such slippery youths, they are ever for the fairest chapman.
Franc. I'll fetch it presently;—oh how my heart quops now, as they say: I'll fetch it presently: Sweet Mr Loveby, if the business can be done, it shall be a good thing in your worship's way, I promise you: O the father! that it could be done: O sweet father! [Loveby plucks out a paper.
Lov. Here, Mr Bibber, pray put in Madam Bibber's name into the warrant.
Bib. Madam Bibber! there's joy!—I must call you wife no more, 'tis Madam Bibber now.
Franc. Pray read it, Mr Bibber.
Bib. An order for the admission of the illustrious lady, Madam Bibber, into her majesty's service.
Franc. Pray give me the paper, I'll have nobody touch it but myself; I am sure my money pays for it, as they say. These are the finest words; Madam Bibber! pray, chicken, shew me where Madam is written, that I may kiss it all over. I shall make bold now to bear up to those flirting gentlewomen, that sweep it up and down with their long tails. I thought myself as good as they, when I was as I was; but now I am as I am.
Lov. Good landlady, dispatch, and bring the money—