Lamp. Only suffer me to put up your name to play with us six nights, and twelve guineas are yours.
Rover. Sir, I thank you, and must confess your offer is liberal; but my friends have flattered me into a sort of opinion that encourages me to take a touch at the capital.
Lamp. Ah, my dear Mr. Rover, a London theatre is dangerous ground.
Rover. Why, I may fail, and gods may groan, and ladies drawl, "La, what an awkward creature!" But should I top my part, then shall gods applaud, and ladies sigh, "The charming fellow!" and treasurers smile upon me, as they count the shining guineas!
Lamp. But, suppose—
Rover. Ay, suppose the contrary, I have a certain friend here, in my coat pocket [Puts his hand in his pocket.] Eh! zounds! where is—oh, the devil! I gave it to discharge my kind host—going for London, and not master of five shillings! [Aside.] "Sir, to return to the twenty pounds."
Lamp. Twenty pounds. Well, let it be so.
Rover. Sir, I engage with you, call a rehearsal when and where you please, I'll attend.
Lamp. Sir, I'll step for the cast book, and you shall chuse your characters.
Trap. And, sir, I'll write out the play-bills directly.