Boy.  I can hear neither tale nor tidings of him:  I have searched him in all his haunts; amongst his creditors; and in all companies where they are like to break the least jest.  I have visited the coffee-houses for him; but among all the news there, I heard none of him.

Bib.  Good, i’ faith.

Lov.  Where’s the warrant?  I’ll put in my own name, since I cannot find him.

Boy.  Sir, I gave it a scrivener at next door, because I could not write, to fill up the blank place with Mr Bibber’s name.

Lov.  What an unlucky vermin ’tis! now, for an hundred pound, could I have gratified him with a waiter’s place at the custom-house, that had been worth to him an hundred pound a-year upon the nail.

Bib.  Could you so, could you so, sir? give me your hand, and I thank you heartily, Mr Loveby.

Lov.  Art thou honest Will? faith, ’tis not worth thy thanks, till it be done:  I wish I had the money for thee.

Bib.  How much is’t, sir?

Lov.  An hundred pounds would do it.

Bib.  Let me see:  forty, I have already by me; take that in part, sir;—­and that, and the lease of my house, would over-do it.

Lov.  By all means thy lease, Will:  ne’er scruple at that; hang a piece of parchment, and two bits of soft wax! thou shalt do’t, thou shalt, boy.

Bib.  Why, then I will, sir:—­But stay, stay:  now I think on’t, Frances has one hundred and twenty pieces of old grandam-and-aunt gold left her, that she would never let me touch:  if we could get that, Mr Loveby! but she’ll never part with it.

Lov.  Tis but saying the place is for her; a waiting woman’s place in the custom-house:  Boy, go, and tell her on’t immediately. [Exit Boy

Bib.  Hold a little; she has been very desirous to get a place in court, that she might take place as the queen’s servant.

Lov.  She shall have a dresser’s place, if thou’lt keep counsel.  The worst on’t is, I have never a warrant ready.

Bib.  ’Tis all one for that, sir; she can neither write nor read; ’tis but my telling her ’tis a warrant, and all’s well.  I can’t but laugh to think how she’ll be choused.

Lov.  And you too:  [Aside.] Mum, she’s here, Will.

Enter FRANCES.

Franc.  A waiting-woman’s place in the custom-house! there’s news for me! thank you, kind Mr Loveby; you have been instrumental, I hear, of my preferment.

Lov.  No, ’tis a dresser’s place at court, landlady.

Franc.  O gemini! that’s better news.

Bib.  Aye, but you must make haste and fetch an hundred pieces:  I can assure you five hundred are bidden for it:  And the courtiers are such slippery youths, they are ever for the fairest chapman.

Franc.  I’ll fetch it presently;—­oh how my heart quops now, as they say:  I’ll fetch it presently:  Sweet Mr Loveby, if the business can be done, it shall be a good thing in your worship’s way, I promise you:  O the father! that it could be done:  O sweet father! [Loveby plucks out a paper.