Aim. What sort of a man is he?
Bon. Why, sir, the man's well enough; says little, thinks less, and does – nothing at all, 'faith: but he's a man of great estate, and values nobody.
Aim. A sportsman, I suppose?
Bon. Yes, sir, he's a man of pleasure; he plays at whist, and smokes his pipe eight-and-forty hours together sometimes.
Aim. A fine sportsman truly! and married, you say?
Bon. Ay, and to a curious woman, sir – but he's a – He wants it here, sir.
Aim. He has it there, you mean.
Bon. That's none of my business; he's my landlord, and so a man, you know, would not – but I'cod he's no better than – sir, my humble service to you. [Drinks.] Though I value not a farthing what he can do to me; I pay him his rent at quarter day; I have a good running trade; I have but one daughter, and I can give her – but no matter for that.
Aim. You are very happy, Mr. Boniface; pray what other company have you in town?
Bon. A power of fine ladies; and then we have the French Officers.
Aim. O that's right, you have a good many of those gentlemen: pray how do you like their company?
Bon. So well, as the saying is, that I could wish we had as many more of them; they are full of money, and pay double for every thing they have; they know, sir, that we paid good round taxes for the taking of them, and so they are willing to reimburse us a little; one of them lodges in my house.
Arch. Landlord, there are some French Gentlemen below, that ask for you.
Bon. I'll wait on them – Does your master stay long in town, as the saying is? [To Archer.
Arch. I can't tell, as the saying is.
Bon. Come from London?
Arch. No!
Bon. Going to London, mayhap?
Arch. No!
Bon. An odd fellow this; [Bar Bell rings.] I beg your worship's pardon, I'll wait on you in half a minute. [Exit.
Aim. The coast's clear, I see – Now, my dear Archer, welcome to Litchfield!
Arch. I thank thee, my dear brother in iniquity.
Aim. Iniquity! pr'ythee, leave canting; you need not change your style with your dress.
Arch. Don't mistake me, Aimwell, for 'tis still my maxim, that there's no scandal like rags, nor any crimes so shameful as poverty. Men must not be poor; idleness is the root of all evil; the world's wide enough, let them bustle; fortune has taken the weak under her protection, but men of sense are left to their industry.
Aim. Upon which topic we proceed, and, I think, luckily hitherto: would not any man swear now, that I am a man of quality, and you my servant, when, if our intrinsic value were known —
Arch. Come, come, we are the men of intrinsic value, who can strike our fortunes out of ourselves, whose worth is independent of accidents in life, or revolutions in government: we have heads to get money, and hearts to spend it.
Aim. As to our hearts, I grant ye, they are as willing tits as any within twenty degrees; but I can have no great opinion of our heads, from the service they have done us hitherto, unless it be that they brought us from London hither to Litchfield, made me a lord, and you my servant.
Arch. That's more than you could expect already, but what money have we left?
Aim. But two hundred pounds.
Arch. And our horses, clothes, rings, &c. Why we have very good fortunes now for moderate people; and let me tell you, that this two hundred pounds, with the experience that we are now masters of, is a better estate than the ten thousand we have spent – Our friends indeed began to suspect that our pockets were low, but we came off with flying colours, showed no signs of want either in word or deed.
Aim. Ay, and our going to Brussels was a good pretence enough for our sudden disappearing; and, I warrant you, our friends imagine, that we are gone a volunteering.
Arch. Why 'faith if this project fails, it must e'en come to that. I am for venturing one of the hundreds, if you will, upon this knight errantry; but in the case it should fail, we'll reserve the other to carry us to some counterscarp, where we may die as we lived, in a blaze.
Aim. With all my heart, and we have lived justly, Archer; we can't say that we have spent our fortunes, but that we have enjoyed them.
Arch. Right; so much pleasure for so much money; we have had our pennyworths; and had I millions, I would go to the same market again. O London, London! well, we have had our share, and let us be thankful: past pleasures, for aught I know, are best; such we are sure of; those to come may disappoint us, but you command for the day, and so I submit: – At Nottingham, you know, I am to be master.
Aim. And at Lincoln, I again.
Arch. Then, at Norwich, I mount, which, I think, shall be our last stage; for, if we fail there, we'll embark for Holland, bid adieu to Venus, and welcome Mars.
Aim. A match —
Mum.
Bon. What will your worship please to have for supper?
Aim. What have you got?
Bon. Sir, we have a delicate piece of beef in the pot, and a pig at the fire.
Aim. Good supper meat, I must confess – I can't eat beef, landlord.
Arch. And I hate pig.
Aim. Hold your prating, sirrah! do you know who you are? [Aside.
Bon. Please to bespeak something else; I have every thing in the house.
Aim. Have you any veal?
Bon. Veal, sir! we had a delicate loin of veal on Wednesday last.
Aim. Have you got any fish, or wild fowl?
Bon. As for fish, truly, sir, we are an inland town, and indifferently provided with fish, that's the truth on't; but then for wild fowl! – We have a delicate couple of rabbits.
Aim. Get me the rabbits fricasseed.
Bon. Fricasseed! Lard, sir, they'll eat much better smothered with onions.
Arch. Pshaw! Rot your onions.
Aim. Again, sirrah; – Well, landlord, what you please; but hold, I have a small charge of money, and your house is so full of strangers, that I believe it may be safer in your custody than mine; for when this fellow of mine gets drunk, he minds nothing – Here, sirrah, reach me the strong box.
Arch. Yes, sir, – this will give us reputation. [Aside. – Brings the Box.
Aim. Here, landlord, the locks are sealed down, both for your security and mine; it holds somewhat above two hundred pounds; if you doubt it, I'll count it to you after supper: But be sure you lay it where I may have it at a minute's warning: for my affairs are a little dubious at present; perhaps I may be gone in half an hour, perhaps I may be your guest till the best part of that be spent; and pray order your ostler to keep my horses ready saddled: But one thing above the rest I must beg, that you would let this fellow have none of your Anno Domini, as you call it; – for he's the most insufferable sot – Here, sirrah, light me to my chamber.
Arch. Yes, sir!
Bon. Cherry,