RAVEN.
Hark, he swears he never heard a better, Sergeant.
PUT. O, there’s no talk on’t, he’s an excellent Scholar, and especially for a Mask.
GENTLEMAN. Give me your Paper, your Device; I was never better pleased in all my life: good wit, brave wit, finely wrought! come in, sir, and receive your money, sir.
PYE.
I’ll follow your good Worship.—
You heard how he liked it now?
PUT. Puh, we know he could not choose but like it: go thy ways; thou art a witty fine fellow, ifaith, thou shalt discourse it to us at Tavern anon, wilt thou?
pye. Aye, aye, that I will. Look, Sergeants, here are Maps, and pretty toys: be doing in the mean time. I shall quickly have told out the money, you know.
PUT. Go, go, little villain, fetch thy chinck. I begin to love thee; I’ll be drunk to night in thy company.
PYE.
[Aside.] This Gentleman I may well call a part
Of my salvation, in these earthly evils,
For he has saved me from three hungry Devils.
[Exit George.]
PUT. Sirrah Sergeant, these Maps are pretty painted things, but I could ne’er fancy ’em yet: me thinks they’re too busy, and full of Circles and Conjurations; they say all the world’s in one of them, but I could ne’er find the Counter in the Poultry.