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Pil. You're very impertinent, methinks, to look
over other people’s letters. Trap. Why—I never read a letter in my life without looking it over. Pil. I don't know any business you had to look upon this. Trap. There's the thing—your not knowing that has put you into this passion.
Pil. You may chance to have your bones broke,
bones will pay for it then Vil. Hall the fool says true; I had better wheedle
him. - [Aside. ,
Trap. My dear queen I don't be frighted—I come as a friend; now be serious.
Wil. Well, what would you have 1
Trap. Don't you love money above any thing in the world—except one.
Pil. I except nothing.
Trap. Very good—and pray, how many letters do you expečt to be paid for when Octavio has married your mistress, and has no occasion to write to her? Look you, child, though you are of counsel for him, use him like a true lawyer; make difficulties where
there are none, that he may see you where he needs not. Dispatch is out of practice delay makes long bills: stick to it; once get him his cause, there's no more advice to be paid for. Pil. What do you mean? Trap. Why, that for the same reason I have no mind to put an end to my own fees by marrying my master: while they are lovers they will always have occasion for a confidant and a pimp ; but when they marry—serviteur-good night vails; our harvest is over. What d'ye think of me now Pil. Why—I like what you say very well; but I don’t know, my friend, to me—that same face of your's looks like the title-page to a whole volume of roguery—What is it you drive at Trap. Money, money, money. Don't you let your mistress marry Octavio: I’ll do my best to hinder my master. Let you and I lay our heads together to keep them asunder, and so make a penny of them all three. Wil. Look you, seignior, I’ll meet you half way, and confess to you I had made a rough draught of this project myself: but say I should agree with you to go on upon't, what security can you give me for performance of articles Trap. More than bond or judgment—my person in custody. Wil. Ah, that won’t do. Trap. No, my love! why, there's many a sweet bit in't—taste it. [Offering to kiss her, she puts him away •
Trap. Faith, you must give me one.
Pil. Indeed, my friend, you are too ugly for me; though I am not handsome myself, I love to play with those that are.
Trap. And yet, methinks, an honest fellow of my size and complexion, in a careless posture, playing the fool thus with his money.
[Tosses a purse, she catches it, and he kisses her.
Wil. Pshal Well, if I must, come then—to see how a woman may be deceived at first sight of a man.
Trap. Nay, then, take a second thought of me,
child. [Again. D. Man. Hah!—this is laying their heads together indeed. [Behind.
Vil. Well, now get you gone; I have a letter to give to my mistress. Slip into the garden—I’ll come t’ye presently.
Trap. Is’t from Octavior
Pil. Pshal begone, I say. [Snatches the letter. Trap. Hist! [Trappanti beckons Don Manuel, who goes softly behind.]
Pil. Madam I madam l ah! D. Man. Now, strumpet, give me the other letter, or I'll murder you. [Draws. Pil. Ah lud oh ludl–there [Squeaking. D. Man. Now we shall see what my gentleman would be at—[Reads.]—‘My dear angel!"—Ha! soft and impudent!—‘Depend upon me at the gardendoor by seven this evening : pity my impatience, and