TRAP. Hold, sweetheart: this is not to our business. My service to you, Mr. Scandal. [Drinks.] I have forborne as long—
VAL. T’other glass, and then we’ll talk. Fill, Jeremy.
TRAP. No more, in truth. I have forborne, I say—
VAL. Sirrah, fill when I bid you. And how does your handsome daughter? Come, a good husband to her. [Drinks.]
TRAP. Thank you. I have been out of this money—
VAL. Drink first. Scandal, why do you not drink? [They drink.]
TRAP. And, in short, I can be put off no longer.
VAL. I was much obliged to you for your supply. It did me signal service in my necessity. But you delight in doing good. Scandal, drink to me, my friend Trapland’s health. An honester man lives not, nor one more ready to serve his friend in distress: though I say it to his face. Come, fill each man his glass.
SCAN. What, I know Trapland has been a whoremaster, and loves a wench still. You never knew a whoremaster that was not an honest fellow.
TRAP. Fie, Mr. Scandal, you never knew—