ad it: that's all the harm I wish myself. Your
servant, madam; I go about the business.

_Exit LOVEBY_.

_Non_. What! does he take no pity on me?

_Const_. Pr'ythee, moan him, Isabella.

_Isa_. Alas, alas, poor uncle! could they find in their hearts to
rob him!

_Non_. Five hundred pounds, out of poor six thousand pounds
a-year! I, and mine, are undone for ever.

_Fail_. Your own house, you think, is clear, my lord?

_Const_. I dare answer for all there, as much as for myself.

_Burr_. Oh, that he would but think that Loveby had it!

_Fail_. If you'll be friends with me, I'll try what I can
persuade him to.

_Burr_. Here's my hand, I will, dear heart.

_Fail_. Your own house being clear, my lord, I am apt to suspect
this Loveby for such a person. Did you mark how abruptly he went out?

_Non_. He did indeed, Mr Failer. But why should I suspect him?
his carriage is fair, and his means great; he could never live after
this rate, if it were not.

_Fail_. This still renders him the more suspicious: He has no
land, to my knowledge.

_Burr_. Well said, mischief. [_Aside_.

_Const_. My father's credulous, and this rogue has found the
blind side of him; would Loveby heard him! [_To_ ISABELLA.

_Fail_. He has no means, and he loses at play; so that, for my
part, I protest to gad, I am resolved he picks locks for his living.

_Burr_. Nay, to my knowledge, he picks locks.

_Tim_. And to mine.

_Fail_. No longer ago than last night he met me in the dark, and
offered to dive into my pockets.

_Non_. That's a main argument for suspicion.

_Fail_. I remember once, when the keys of the Exchequer were lost
in the Rump-time, he was sent for upon an extremity, and, egad, he
opens me all the locks with the blade-bone of a breast of mutton.

_Non_. Who, this Loveby?

_Fail_. This very Loveby. Another time, when we had sate up very
late at ombre in the country, and were hungry towards morning, he
plucks me out (I vow to gad I tell you no lie) four ten-penny nails
from the dairy lock with his teeth, fetches me out a mess of milk, and
knocks me 'em in again with his head, upon reputation.

_Isa_. Thou boy!

_Non_. What shall I do in this case? My comfort is, my gold's all
marked.

_Const_. Will you suspect a gentleman of Loveby's worth, upon the
bare report of such a rascal as this Failer?

_Non_. Hold thy tongue, I charge thee; upon my blessing hold thy
tongue. I'll have him apprehended before he sleeps; co