has procured his greatness by
pimping.

LUCY. Now poverty and the pox light upon thee for a contemplative pimp.

SETTER. Ha! what art who thus maliciously hast awakened me from my dream
of glory? Speak, thou vile disturber--

LUCY. Of thy most vile cogitations--thou poor, conceited wretch, how
wert thou valuing thyself upon thy master's employment? For he's the
head pimp to Mr. Bellmour.

SETTER. Good words, damsel, or I shall--But how dost thou know my master
or me?

LUCY. Yes; I know both master and man to be--

SETTER. To be men, perhaps; nay, faith, like enough: I often march in
the rear of my master, and enter the breaches which he has made.

LUCY. Ay, the breach of faith, which he has begun: thou traitor to thy
lawful princess.

SETTER. Why, how now! prithee who art? Lay by that worldly face and
produce your natural vizor.

LUCY. No, sirrah, I'll keep it on to abuse thee and leave thee without
hopes of revenge.

SETTER. Oh! I begin to smoke ye: thou art some forsaken Abigail we have
dallied with heretofore--and art come to tickle thy imagination with
remembrance of iniquity past.

LUCY. No thou pitiful flatterer of thy master's imperfections; thou
maukin made up of the shreds and parings of his superfluous fopperies.

SETTER. Thou art thy mistress's foul self, composed of her sullied
iniquities and clothing.

LUCY. Hang thee, beggar's cur, thy master is but a mumper in love, lies
canting at the gate; but never dares presume to enter the house.

SETTER. Thou art the wicket to thy mistress's gate, to be opened for all
comers. In fine thou art the highroad to thy mistress.

LUCY. Beast, filthy toad, I can hold no longer, look and tremble.
[_Unmasks_.]

SETTER. How, Mrs. Lucy!

LUCY. I wonder thou hast the impudence to look me in the face.

SETTER. Adsbud, who's in fault, mistress of mine? who flung the first
stone? who undervalued my function? and who the devil could know you by
instinct?

LUCY. You could know my office by instinct, and be hanged, which you
have slandered most abominably. It vexes me not what you said of my
person; but that my innocent calling should be exposed and scandalised--I
cannot bear it.

SETTER. Nay, faith, Lucy, I'm sorry, I'll own myself to blame, though we
were both in fault as to our offices--come, I'll make you any reparation.

LUCY. Swear.

SETTER. I do swear to the utmost of my power.

LUCY. To be brief, then; what is the re