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Scene V.

VALENTINE, SCANDAL, TRAPLAND, JEREMY.

VALENTINE
Oh, Mr Trapland! My old friend! Welcome. Jeremy, a chair quickly: a bottle of sack and a toast--fly--a chair first.

TRAPLAND
A good morning to you, Mr Valentine, and to you, Mr Scandal.

SCANDAL
The morning's a very good morning, if you don't spoil it.

VALENTINE
Come, sit you down, you know his way.

TRAPLAND
[sits.] There is a debt, Mr Valentine, of 1500 pounds of pretty long standing -

VALENTINE
I cannot talk about business with a thirsty palate. Sirrah, the sack.

TRAPLAND
And I desire to know what course you have taken for the payment?

VALENTINE
Faith and troth, I am heartily glad to see you. My service to you. Fill, fill to honest Mr Trapland--fuller.

TRAPLAND
Hold, sweetheart: this is not to our business. My service to you, Mr Scandal. [Drinks.] I have forborne as long -

VALENTINE
T'other glass, and then we'll talk. Fill, Jeremy.

TRAPLAND
No more, in truth. I have forborne, I say -

VALENTINE
Sirrah, fill when I bid you. And how does your handsome daughter? Come, a good husband to her. [Drinks.]

TRAPLAND
Thank you. I have been out of this money -

VALENTINE
Drink first. Scandal, why do you not drink? [They drink.]

TRAPLAND
And, in short, I can be put off no longer.

VALENTINE
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.

SCANDAL
What, I know Trapland has been a whoremaster, and loves a wench still. You never knew a whoremaster that was not an honest fellow.

TRAPLAND
Fie, Mr Scandal, you never knew -

SCANDAL
What don't I know? I know the buxom black widow in the Poultry. 800 pounds a year jointure, and 20,000 pounds in money. Aha! old Trap.

VALENTINE
Say you so, i'faith? Come, we'll remember the widow. I know whereabouts you are; come, to the widow -

TRAPLAND
No more, indeed.

VALENTINE
What, the widow's health; give it him--off with it. [They drink.] A lovely girl, i'faith, black sparkling eyes, soft pouting ruby lips! Better sealing there than a bond for a million, ha?

TRAPLAND
No, no, there's no such thing; we'd better mind our business. You're a wag.

VALENTINE
No, faith, we'll mind the widow's business: fill again. Pretty round heaving breasts, a Barbary shape, and a jut with her bum would stir an anchoret: and the prettiest foot! Oh, if a man could but fasten his eyes to her feet as they steal in and out, and play at bo-peep under her petticoats, ah! Mr Trapland?

TRAPLAND
Verily, give me a glass. You're a wag,--and here's to the widow. [Drinks.]

SCANDAL
He begins to chuckle; ply him close, or he'll relapse into a dun.

William Congreve