Bib.  Tis true she tells me; I love your wit well, sir; but I must cut my coat according to my cloth.

Fran.  Sir, we’ll come by our own as we can; if you put us oft’ from week to week thus.

Lov.  Nay, but good landlady—­

Fran.  Will good landlady set on the pot, as they say; or make the jack go? then I’ll hear you.

Bib.  Now she’s too much on t’other hand; hold your prating, Frances; or I’ll put you out of your Pater Nosters, with a sorrow to you.

Fran.  I did but lay the law open to him, as they say, whereby to get our money in:  But if you knew how he had used me, husband!

Bib.  Has he used you, Frances? put so much more into his bill for lodging.

Lov.  Honest Will, and so he died[A]; I thank thee, little Bibber, being sober, and, when I am drunk, I will kiss thee for’t.

[Footnote A:  This expression seems proverbial.]

Bib.  Thank me, and pay me my money, sir; though I could not forbear my jest, I do not intend to lose by you; if you pay me not the sooner, I must provide you another lodging; say I give you warning.

Lov.  Against next quarter, landlord?

Bib.  Of an hour, sir.

Lov.  That’s short warning, Will.

Bib.  By this hand you shall up into the garret, where the little bed is; I’ll let my best room to a better pay-master:  you know the garret, sir?

Franc.  Aye, he knows it, by a good token, husband.

Lov.  I sweat to think of that garret, Will; thou art not so unconscionable to put me there?  Why, ’tis a kind of little ease[B], to cramp thy rebellious prentices in; I have seen an usurer’s iron chest would hold two on’t:  A penny looking-glass cannot stand upright in the window, that and the brush tills it:  the hat-case must be disposed under the bed, and the comb-case will hang down, from the ceiling to the floor.  If I chance to dine in my chamber, I must stay till I am empty before I can get out:  and if I chance to spill the chamber-pot, it will overflow it from top to bottom.

[Footnote B:  A kind of dungeon, so called from its construction.]

Bib.  Well, for the description of the garret, I’ll bate you something of the bill.

Lov.  All, all, good Will; or, to stay thy fury till my rents come up, I will describe thy little face.

Bib.  No, rather describe your own little money; I am sure that’s so little it is not visible.

Lov.  You are in the right, I have not a cross at present, as I am a sinner; an you will not believe me, I’ll turn my pockets inside outward—­Ha!  What’s the meaning of this? my pockets heavy! has my small officer put in counters to abuse me?—­How now! yellow boys, by this good light? sirrah, varlet, how came I by this gold?  Ha!

Boy.  What gold do you mean, sir? the devil a piece you had this morning.  In these last three weeks, I have almost forgot what my teeth were made for; last night good Mrs Bibber here took pity on me, and crumm’d me a mess of gruel with the children, and I popt and popt my spoon three or four times to my mouth, before I could find the way to’t.