Y. W. But methinks, sir, that a person of your nice conscience should have cautioned me before.
Bald. Alas! sir, it was none of my business. Would you have me be saucy to a gentleman that was my best customer? Lack-a-day, sir, had you money to hold it out still, I had been hanged rather than be rude to you. But truly, sir, when a man is ruined, ’tis but the duty of a Christian to tell him of it.
Y. W. Will you lend me money, sir?
Bald. Will you pay me this bill, sir?
Y. W. Lend me the hundred pound, and I’ll pay the bill.
Bald. Pay me the bill, and I will—not lend you the hundred pound, sir. But pray consider with yourself, now, sir; would not you think me an errant coxcomb to trust a person with money that has always been so extravagant under my eye? whose profuseness I have seen, I have felt, I have handled? Have not I known you, sir, throw away ten pounds a-night upon a covey of pit-partridges and a setting-dog? Sir, you have made my house an ill house; my very chairs will bear you no longer. In short, sir, I desire you to frequent the “Crown” no more, sir.
Y. W. Thou sophisticated ton of iniquity, have I fattened your carcass and swelled your bags with my vital blood? Have I made you my companion to be thus saucy to me? But now I will keep you at your distance.
[Kicks him.
Ser. Welcome, sir![Kicks him.
Y. W. Well said, Jack.[Kicks him again.