Bell. Speaks miracles, is the drum to his own praisethe only implement of a soldier he resembles; like that, being full of blustering noise and emptiness.

Sharp. And like that, of no use but to be beaten.

Bell. Right; but then the comparison breaks, for he will take a drubbing with as little noise as a pulpitcushion.

Sharp. His name, and I have done?

Bell. Why, that, to pass it current too, he has gilded with a title he is called Captain Bluffe.

Sharp. Well, I'll endeavour his acquaintance; you steer another course, are bound

For Love's fair isle; I for the golden coast:
May each succeed in what he wishes most!

[Exeunt.

Enter SIR JOSEPH WITTOL, SHARPER following.

HARP. [Aside.] Sure that's he, and

alone.

Sir Fo. [Not perceiving SHARPER.] Um-ay, this, this is the very damned place; the inhuman cannibals, the bloody-minded villains

would have butchered me last night: no doubt they would have flayed me alive, have sold my skin, and devoured, &c.

Sharp. How's this?

Sir Fo. An it hadn't been for a civil gentleman as came by and frighted 'em away-but, egad, I durst not stay to give him thanks.

Sharp. This must be Bellmour he means.-Ha! I Have a thought

Sir Fo. Zooks, would the captain would come! the very remembrance makes me quake; egad, I shall never be reconciled to this place heartily.

Sharp. 'Tis but trying, and being where I am at worst. Now luck!-[Aloud.] Cursed fortune! this must be the place, this damned unlucky place!

Sir Fo. [Aside.] Egad, and so it is. Why, here has been more mischief done, I perceive.

Sharp. No, 'tis gone, 'tis lost,-ten thousand devils on

that chance which drew me hither! Ay, here, just here, this spot to me is hell; nothing to be found but the despair of what I've lost. [Looking about as in search. Sir Fo. Poor gentleman!-By the Lord Harry I'll stay no longer, for I have found too

Sharp. Ha! who's that has found? what have you found? restore it quickly, or by--

Sir Fo. Not I, sir, not I, as I've a soul to be saved, I have found nothing but what has been to my loss, as I may say, and as you were saying, sir.

Sharp. O your servant, sir, you are safe then it seems; 'tis an ill wind that blows nobody good. Well, you may rejoice over my ill fortune, since it paid the price of your

ransom.

Sir Fo. I rejoice! egad, not I, sir; I'm very sorry for your loss, with all my heart, blood and guts, sir; and if you did but know me, you'd ne'er say I were so ill-natured.

Sharp. Know you! why, can you be so ungrateful to forget me?

Sir Fo. [Aside.] O Lord, forget him!-[Aloud.] No, no, sir, I don't forget you-because I never saw your face before, egad;-ha! ha! ha!

Sharp. How!

[Angrily.

Sir Fo. Stay, stay, sir, let me recollect-[Aside.] He's a damned angry fellow-I believe I had better remember him, till I can get out of his sight; but out o'sight, out o'mind, egad.

Sharp. Methought the service I did you last night, sir, in preserving you from those ruffians, might have taken better root in your shallow memory.

Sir Fo. [Aside.] Gads-daggers-belts-blades and scabbards, this is the very gentleman! How shall I make him a return suitable to the greatness of his merit? I had a pretty thing to that purpose, if he ha'n't frightened it out of my memory.-[Aloud.] Hem, hem, sir, I most submissively implore your pardon for my transgression of ingratitude and omission; having my entire dependence

sir, upon the superfluity of your goodness, which, like an inundation, will, I hope, totally immerge the recollection of my error, and leave me floating in your sight upon the full-blown bladders of repentance, by the help of which I shall once more hope to swim into your favour. [Bows. Sharp. So!-O, sir, I am easily pacified, the acknowledgment of a gentleman

Sir Fo. Acknowledgment! sir, I'm all over acknowledgment, and will not stick to show it in the greatest extremity, by night or by day, in sickness or in health, winter or summer; all seasons and occasions shall testify the reality and gratitude of your super-abundant humble servant, Sir Joseph Wittol, knight.-Hem, hem.

Sharp. Sir Joseph Wittol!

Sir Fo. The same, sir, of Wittol Hall, in comitatu Bucks.

Sharp. Is it possible! then I am happy, to have obliged the mirror of knighthood, and pink of courtesy in the age. Let me embrace you.

Sir Fo. O Lord, sir!

Sharp. My loss I esteem as a trifle repaid with interest, since it has purchased me the friendship and acquaintance of the person in the world whose character I admire.

say so.-But pray, if mention?

In the scuffle last

Sir Fo. You are only pleased to I may be so bold, what is that loss you Sharp. O, term it no longer so, sir. night, I only dropped a bill of a hundred pounds, which, I confess, I came half despairing to recover, but thanks to my better fortune

Sir Fo. You have found it, sir, then it seems; I profess I'm heartily glad.

Sharp. Sir, your humble servant-I don't question but you are; that you have so cheap an opportunity of expressing your gratitude and generosity; since the paying of so trivial a sum will wholly acquit you and doubly engage me.

Sir Fo. [Asiae.] What, a dickens, does he mean by a trivial sum?-[Aloud.] But ha'n't you found it, sir? Sharp. No otherwise, I vow to gad, but in my hopes in you, sir.

Sir Fo. Humph.

Sharp. But that's sufficient-'twere injustice to doubt the honour of Sir Joseph Wittol.

Sir Fo. O Lord, sir!

Sharp. You are above (I'm sure) a thought so low, to suffer me to lose what was ventured in your service; nay 'twas, in a manner, paid down for your deliverance; 'twas so much lent you; and you scorn, I'll say that for you—

Sir Fo. Nay, I'll say that for myself, (with your leave, sir,) I do scorn a dirty thing; but, egad, I'm a little out of pocket at present.

Sharp. Pshaw! you can't want a hundred pounds. Your word is sufficient anywhere; 'tis but borrowing so much dirt, you have large acres and can soon repay it. Money is but dirt, Sir Joseph, mere dirt.

Sir Fo. But I profess 'tis a dirt I have washed my hands of at present; I have laid it all out upon my back.

Sharp. Are you so extravagant in clothes, Sir Joseph ? Sir Fo. Ha! ha! ha! a very good jest I profess, ha! ha ha! a very good jest, and I did not know that I had said it, and that's a better jest than t'other. 'Tis a sign you and I ha'n't been long acquainted; you have lost a good jest for want of knowing me. I only mean a friend of mine whom I call my back; he sticks as close to me, and follows me through all dangers: he is indeed back, breast, and head-piece as it were to me. Egad, he's a brave fellow-pauh! I am quite another thing when I am with him; I don't fear the devil (bless us!) almost, if he be by. Ah, had he been with me last night

Sharp. If he had, sir, what then? he could have done no more, nor perhaps have suffered so much. hundred pounds to lose?

Had he a [Angrily.

Sir Fo. O Lord, sir, by no means!--but I might have