Wid. Alas! they are at the stairs' foot; for heaven's sake, sir!
Alex. Will you have me?
Wid. What shall I do? no.
Alex. This is the last time of asking; they come up, and down go my breeches. Will you have me?
Wid. Ay, ay, ay, alas! and your breeches go down, I am undone for ever.
Alex. Why, then, kiss me upon't. And yet there's no cracking your credit: Jarvis, come in, Jarvis.
Enter Jarvis.
Jar. I have kept my promise, sir; you've catched the old one.
Wid. How, catched? is there nobody below, then?
Jar. Nobody but John, forsooth, recovering a tobacco snuff, that departed before supper.