Crop. You did not borrow my money with this language.
Jolly. No, sirrah: then I was fain to flatter you, and endure the familiarity of your family, and hear (nay, fain sometimes to join in) the lying praises of the holy sister that expired at Tyburn.
Crop. Do, abuse her, and be cursed. 'Tis well known she died a martyr, and her blood will be upon some of you. 'Tis her orphan's money I require, and this is the last time I'll ask it: I'll find a way to get it.
[He offers to go, and Jolly stays him.
Jolly. Art serious? By that light, I'll consent, and take it for an infinite obligation, if thou wilt teach the rest of my creditors that trick: 'twill save me a world of labour, for hang me if I know how to do't.
Crop. Well, sir, since I see your resolution, I shall make it my business.
Care. Prythee, let's be rid of this fool.
Crop. Fool! Let him pay the fool his money, and he'll be gone.
Jolly. No, sir, not a farthing. 'Twas my business to borrow it, and it shall be yours to get it in again. Nay, by this hand, I'll be feasted too, and have good words. Nay, thou shalt lend me more, ere thou gett'st this again.
Crop. I'll lay my action upon you.