Land.  Husband—­marry come up, Husbands know Wives secrets?  No, sure, the World’s not so bad yet—­where do your things lie? and for what?

Gay.  Five Pounds equips me—­Rag can conduct you—­but I say you shall not go, I’ve sworn.

Land.  Meddle with your matters—­let me see, the Caudle Cup that Molly’s Grandmother left her, will pawn for about that sum—­I’ll sneak it out—­well, Sir, you shall have your things presently—­trouble not your head, but expect me.

[Ex.  Landlady and Rag.

Gay.  Was ever man put to such beastly shifts?  ’Sdeath, how she stunk—­ my senses are most luxuriously regal’d—­there’s my perpetual Musick too—­

[Knocking of Hammers on a Anvil.

The ringing of Bells is an Ass to’t.

Enter Rag.

Rag.  Sir, there’s one in a Coach below wou’d speak to you.

Gay.  With me, and in a Coach! who can it be?

Rag.  The Devil, I think, for he has a strange Countenance.

Gay.  The Devil! shew your self a Rascal of Parts, Sirrah, and wait on him up with Ceremony.

Rag.  Who, the Devil, Sir?

Gay.  Ay, the Devil, Sir, if you mean to thrive.
                                            [Exit Rag. 
Who can this be—­but see he comes to inform me—­withdraw.

Enter Bredwel drest like a Devil.

Bred.  I come to bring you this—­
                    [Gives him a Letter.

Gayman reads.

Receive what Love and Fortune present you with, be grateful
and be silent, or ’twill vanish like a dream, and leave you
more wretched that it found You. 

          
                                                                Adieu.

—­Hah—­
                                [Gives him a bag of Money.

Bred.  Nay, view it, Sir, ’tis all substantial Gold.

Gay.  Now dare not I ask one civil question for fear it vanish all—­
          
                                                     [Aside. 
But I may ask, how ’tis I ought to pay for this great Bounty.

Bred.  Sir, all the Pay is Secrecy—­

Gay.  And is this all that is required, Sir?

Bred.  No, you’re invited to the Shades below.

Gay.  Hum, Shades below!—­I am not prepared for such a Journey, Sir.

Bred.  If you have Courage, Youth or Love, you’ll follow me: 
When Night’s black Curtain’s drawn around the World,
And mortal Eyes are safely lockt in sleep, [In feign’d Heroick Tone. 
And no bold Spy dares view when Gods caress,
Then I’ll conduct thee to the Banks of Bliss. 
—­Durst thou not trust me?

Gay.  Yes, sure, on such substantial security. [Hugs the Bag.