Blank. God save the right worshipful Master Bubble; I bring you heavy news with a light heart.
Bub. What are you?
Blank. I am your worship's poor scrivener.
Bub. He is an honest man, it seems, for he hath both his ears.
Blank. I am one that your worship's uncle committed some trust in for the putting out of his money, and I hope I shall have the putting out of yours.
Bub. The putting out of mine! Would you have the putting out of my money?
Blank. Yea, sir.
Bub. No, sir, I am old enough to put out my own money.
Blank. I have writings of your worship's.