Trim. Do, sir! They've ate you to your last guinea.
Ld. H. Were you at the agent's?
Trim. Yes.
Ld. H. Well? And how?
Trim. Why, sir, for your arrears, you may have eleven shillings in the pound; but he'll not touch your growing subsistence under three shillings in the pound interest; besides which you must let his clerk, Jonathan Item, swear the peace against you to keep you from duelling—or insure your life, which you may do for eight per cent. On these terms he'll oblige you, which he would not do for anybody else in the regiment; but he has a friendship for you.
Ld. H. Oh, I'm his humble servant; but he must have his own terms. We can't starve, nor must my fellows want. But methinks this is a calm midnight, I've heard no duns to-day——
Trim. Duns, my lord? Why now your father's dead, and they can't arrest you. I shall grow a little less upon the smooth with 'em than I have been. Why, friend, says I, how often must I tell you my lord is not stirring: His lordship has not slept well, you must come some other time; your lordship will send for him when you are at leisure to look upon money-affairs; or if they are so saucy, so impertinent as to press to a man of your quality for their own—there are canes, there's Bridewell, there's the stocks for your ordinary tradesmen. But to an haughty, thriving Covent Garden mercer, silk or laceman, your lordship gives your most humble service to him, hopes his wife's well. You have letters to write, or you'd see him yourself, but you desire he would be with you punctually such a day, that is to say the day after you are gone out of town.
Ld. H. Go, sirrah, you're scurrilous; I won't believe there are such men of quality. D'ye hear, give my service this afternoon to Mr. Cutpurse, the agent, and tell him I'm obliged to him for his readiness to serve me, for I'm resolved to pay my debts forthwith——
[A voice without. I don't know whether he is within or not. Mr. Trim, is my lord within?]
Ld. H. Trim, see who it is. I ain't within, you know. [Exit Trim.