Gerv. O lord, sir, are we alive!
Wood. Alive! why, we were never in any danger: Well, she is a rare manager of a fool!
090 Gerv. Are you disposed yet to receive good counsel? Has affliction wrought upon you?
Wood. Yes, I must ask thy advice in a most important business. I have promised a charity to Mrs Saintly, and she expects it with a beating heart a-bed: Now, I have at present no running cash to throw away; my ready money is all paid to Mrs Tricksy, and the bill is drawn upon me for to-night.
Gerv. Take advice of your pillow.
Wood. No, sirrah; since you have not the grace to offer yours, I will for once make use of my authority and command you to perform the foresaid drudgery in my place.
Gerv. Zookers, I cannot answer it to my conscience.
Wood. Nay, an your conscience can suffer you to swear, it shall suffer you to lie too: I mean in this sense. Come, no denial, you must do it; she is rich, and there is a provision for your life.
Gerv. I beseech you, sir, have pity on my soul.
Wood. Have you pity of your body: There is all the wages you must expect.