Enter Lightfoot, a country gentleman, passing over the stage, and knocks at the other door.
Light. Ho! who's within here?
Enter Atlas, a porter.
Atlas. Ha' ye any money to pay, you knock with such authority, sir?
Light. What if I have not? may not a man knock without money, sir?
Atlas. Seldom; women and servants will not put it up so, sir.
Light. How say you by that, sir? but, I prythee, is not this one Atlas's house, a porter?
Atlas. I am the rent-payer thereof.
Light. In good time, sir.
Atlas. Not in good time neither, sir, for I am behind with my landlord a year and three-quarters at least.