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Hum, 'tis Wasteall now does my heart fail me A Chest say you to me so late; I'll warrant it comes from Sir Nicholas Smuggle some prohibited Goods that he has stoln the Custom of, and cheated his Majesty Well, he's an honest Man, bring it in L. Ful. What, into my Apartment, Sir, a nasty Chest! Sir Cau. Enter with the Chest.
Griping as Hell and as insatiable worse than a Brokering Jew, not all the Twelve Tribes harbour such a damn'd Extortioner. Sir Cau. Gay. One whom thou hast undone Sir Cau. Gay. Racking me up to a starving Want and Misery, Then took advantages to ruin me. Sir Cau. Gay. Do not you know one Wasteall, Sir? Sir Cau.
Bred. Mr. Crap, being busy with a borrowing Lord, sent me to Mr. Wasteall, whose Lodging is in a nasty Place called Alsatia, at a Black-Smith's. L. Ful. But what's all this to Gayman? Bred. Madam, this Wasteall was Mr. Gayman. L. Ful. Gayman! Saw'st thou Gayman? Bred. Madam, Mr. Gayman, yesterday. L. Ful. When came he to Town? Bred. Madam, he has not been out of it. L. Ful.
More of your Money and less of your Civility, good Mr. Wasteall. Gay. Dear Landlady Land. Dear me no Dears, Sir, but let me have my Money Eight Weeks Rent last Friday; besides Taverns, Ale-houses, Chandlers, Landresses' Scores, and ready Money out of my Purse; you know it, Sir. Gay. Ay, but your Husband don't; speak softly. Land. My Husband! what, do you think to fright me with my Husband?
Wasteall, and she began to open and did so rail at him, that what with her Billinsgate, and her Husband's hammers, I was both deaf and dumb at last the hammers ceas'd, and she grew weary, and call'd down Mr.
The lover straightway resolves to personate the expected newcomer, and he is assisted in his design by his friend Gayman, a town gallant, who having fallen into dire need is compelled to lodge, under the name of Wasteall, with a smith in Alsatia.
Wasteall; but he not answering I was sent up a Ladder rather than a pair of Stairs; at last I scal'd the top, and enter'd the inchanted Castle; there did I find him, spite of the noise below, drowning his Cares in Sleep. L. Ful. Whom foundst thou? Gayman? Bred. He, Madam, whom I waked and seeing me, Heavens, what Confusion seiz'd him! which nothing but my own Surprize could equal.
I say 'twas done like a wise Man, Sir; but under favour, Gentlemen, this Wasteall is a Rascal Noi. A very Rascal, Sir, and a most dangerous Fellow he cullies in your Prentices and Cashiers to play which ruins so many o'th' young Fry i'th' City Sir Cau. Hum does he so d'ye hear that, Edward? Noi. Then he keeps a private Press, and prints your Amsterdam and Leyden Libels. Sir Cau.
Wasteall ha, ha, ha, if you are any Friend to that poor Fellow you may return and tell him, Sir d'ye hear that the Mortgage of two hundred pound a Year is this day out, and I'll not bait him an hour, Sir ha, ha, ha, what, do you think to hector civil Magistrates? Gay. Very well, Sir, and is this your Conscience? Sir Cau. Conscience! what do you tell me of Conscience?
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