Lov.  Faith, madam, I know not that part o’the town.—­Lord, how I sweat for fear! [Aside.

Const.  And yours, madam, where, I beseech your ladyship?

2 Whore.  In Dog and Bitch yard, an’t please your ladyship.

3 Whore.  And mine in Sodom, so like your ladyship.

Const.  How, Loveby!  I did not think you would have used me thus?

Lov.  I beseech your ladyship, but hear my justification as I lead you.

Const.  By no means, sir; that were such a rudeness to leave persons of quality, to wait upon me:  Unhand me, sir.

Isa.  Ha, ha, ha!—­[Exeunt CONST. ISA.

Lov.  I am ruined! for ever ruined.  Plague, had you no places in the town to name, but Sodom, and Lucknor’s Lane, for lodgings!

L.  Du Lake.  If any prejudice arise from it, upon my honour, son, ’twas by mistake, and not intended you:  I thought she desired to have been admitted of the quality.

Lov.  I was curst, when I had first to do with you.

[Kicks them.

L.  Du Lake.  Well, I thank heaven, that has indued me with such patience.

[Exeunt all but LOVEBY and his Boy.

Lov.  I have made a fair hand on’t to-day;—­both lost my mistress, and hear no news from my friend below:  The world frowns upon me, and the devil and my mistress have forsaken me:  My godfathers and godmothers have promised well for me:  Instead of renouncing them, they have renounced me.

Boy.  Sir, I saw my Lady Constance smile as she went out:  I am confident she’s angry but from the teeth outwards:  you might easily make fair weather with her, if you could get the money you promised her, but there’s the devil—­

Lov.  Where is he, boy? shew me him quickly.

Boy.  Marry, God bless us!  I mean, sir, there’s the difficulty.

Lov.  Damned rogue, to put me in hope so—­

Enter BIBBER at the other end.

Lov.  Uds so, look where Bibber is:  Now I think on’t, he offered me a bag of forty pounds, and the lease of his house yesterday:  But that’s his pocky humour; when I have money, and do not ask him, he will offer it; but when I ask him, he will not lend a farthing.—­Turn this way, sirrah, and make as though we did not see him.

Bib.  Our gentleman, I think, a-talking with his boy there.

Lov.  You understand me?—­

Boy.  I warrant you, sir.

Lov.  No news yet; what an unlucky rascal ’tis! if the rogue should hereafter be reduced to the raiment of his own shreds, I should not pity him.

Bib.  How’s this!

Lov.  Now is this rascal hunting after jests, to make himself the greatest to all that know him.

Bib.  This must be me.