Knap. Ay, Mr. Shrimp, I don’t doubt but you have good store of Mistresses.  Why you look a little thin upon the matter, ha!

Shr. No, no, Mr. Knapsack, I’m as moderate at that Sport, as any Man; I must own, when a pretty Lady comes betimes in a Morning to my Master, and he, poor Gentleman, is in a dead Sleep with hard Drinking, I do now and then take her into the next Room, play the Fool with her a little till my Master wakes, then give her a Dram of Surfeit-Water, and put her to Bed to him, now there’s Safety in such an Amour, for my Master hasn’t his Mistresses from a profess’d Baud; I have found him out a conscientious old Gentlewoman, that’s one of the sober Party, and acquainted with most Citizens Daughters, that have as much Inclination to turn Whores as a Chamber-Maid out of Place, and the old Lady is so passionately fond of my Master, because he was once so charitable to do her the Favour, she sends him the choicest of all her Ware—­but to pick up a dirty Drab in the Eighteen-penny-Gallery, with a rusty black Top-knot, a little Flower in her Hair, a turn’d Smock, and no Stockings, the Jade wou’d poyson you like Eighteen-penny-Wine.

Knap. I find, Mr. Shrimp, you Gentlemens Gentlemen have all your Cues.

Shr. Ah!  Mr. Knapsack, there’s more goes to the finishing of a true Valet, than tying a Wig smartly, or answering a Dun genteely.  I have sometimes such weighty Matters warring in my Brains, and a greater Conflict with my self how I shall manage ’em, than a Merchant’s Cash-keeper, that’s run away with two thousand Pounds, and can’t resolve whether he shall trust the Government with it, or put it into the East India Company—­I only wish it were my Fate to serve some Statesman in Business; for Pimping often tosses a Man into a Place of three hundred a Year, when Mony shall be refus’d, Merit repuls’d, and Relations thought impudent for pretending to’t.—­But, I believe, Mr. Knapsack, our Hour’s elaps’d, for tho’ our Masters may n’t want us, we that are at Board-wages love to smell out where they dine.

Knap. The Motion, Mr. Shrimp, is admirable, for really the Tea begins to rake my Guts confoundedly. [Exeunt.

SCENE Changes to Lady Rodomont’s.

    Enter Lady Rodomont, and Mrs. Lovejoy, follow’d by a Servant.

Ser. Madam, the Mercer, the Manto-Maker, the Sempstress, the India-Woman, and the Toy-Man attend your Ladiship without.

L. Rod. Admit ’em,—­this Grandeur, Cozen, which those o’ Quality assume above the Populace, to have obsequious Mechanicks wait our Levee in a Morning, is not disagreeable; then they are as constant as our Menials, and the less Mony one pays ’em, the more constantly they attend.

Mrs. Lov. Those Ladies, Madam, that want Mony to pay ’em, wou’d gladly excuse their Attendance.