Enter Rag.

Gay.  Well, Landlady—­if we must part—­let’s drink at parting; here, Landlady, here’s to the Fool—­that shall love you better than I have done. [Sighing, drinks.

Land.  Rot your Wine—­dy’e think to pacify me with Wine, Sir?

[She refusing to drink, he holds open her Jaws, Rag
throws a Glass of Wine into her Mouth.

—­What, will you force me?—­no—­give me another Glass, I scorn to be so uncivil to be forced, my service to you, Sir—­this shan’t do, Sir.

[She drinks, he, embracing her, sings.

Ah, Cloris, ’tis in vain you scold, Whilst your Eyes kindle such a Fire.  Tour Railing cannot make me cold, So fast as they a Warmth inspire.

Land.  Well, Sir, you have no reason to complain of my Eyes nor my Tongue neither, if rightly understood. [Weeps.

Gay.  I know you are the best of Landladies, As such I drink your Health—­ [Drinks.  But to upbraid a Man in Tribulation—­fie—­’tis not done like a Woman of Honour, a Man that loves you too.

[She drinks.

Land.  I am a little hasty sometimes, but you know my good Nature.

Gay.  I do, and therefore trust my little wants with you.  I shall be rich again—­and then, my dearest Landlady—­

Land.  Wou’d this Wine might ne’er go through me, if I wou’d not go, as they say, through Fire and Water—­by Night or by Day for you.
          
                                             [She drinks.

Gay.  And as this is Wine I do believe thee. [He drinks.

Land.  Well—­you have no money in your Pocket now, I’ll warrant you—­ here—­here’s ten Shillings for you old Greg’ry knows not of.
                                         [Opens a great greasy purse.

Gay.  I cannot in Conscience take it, good Faith, I cannot—­besides, the next Quarrel you’ll hit me in the Teeth with it.

Land.  Nay, pray no more of that; forget it, forget it.  I own I was to blame—­here, Sir, you shall take it.

Gay.  Ay,—­but what shou’d I do with Money in these damn’d Breeches?  —­No, put it up—­I can’t appear abroad thus—­no, I’ll stay at home, and lose my business.

Land.  Why, is there no way to redeem one of your Suits?

Gay.  None—­none—­I’ll e’en lay me down and die.

Land.  Die—­marry, Heavens forbid—­I would not for the World—­let me see—­hum—­what does it lie for?

Gay.  Alas! dear Landlady, a Sum—­a Sum.

Land.  Well, say no more, I’ll lay about me.

Gay.  By this kiss but you shall not—­Assafetida, by this Light.

Land.  Shall not? that’s a good one, i’faith:  shall you rule, or I?

Gay.  But shou’d your Husband know it?—­