Fisc. Three hundred quadruples.
Per. That's true, but—
Fisc. But three hundred quadruples.
Per. The devil take the quadruples!
Enter Beamont.
Beam. There's my cuckold that must be, and my fellow swaggerer, the Dutchman, with my mistress: my nose is wiped to-day; I must retire, for the Spaniard is jealous of me.
Per. Oh, Mr Beamont, I'm to ask a favour of you.
Beam. This is unusual; pray command it, signior.
Per. I am going upon urgent business; pray sup with me to-night, and, in the meantime, bear my worthy friend here company.
Beam. With all my heart.