_Aldo._ No deferring in these cases, daughter.

_Trick._ But I have lost the keys.

_Limb._ That's a jest! let me feel in thy pocket, for I must oblige
thee.

_Trick._ You shall feel no where: I have felt already and am sure they
are lost.

_Aldo._ But feel again, the lawyer stays.

_Trick._ Well, to satisfy you, I will feel.--They are not here--nor
here neither. [_She pulls out her handkerchief, and the keys
drop after it:_ LIMBERHAM _takes them up._

_Limb._ Look you now, Pug! who's in the right? Well, thou art born to
be a lucky Pug, in spite of thyself.

_Trick_ [_Aside._] O, I am ruined!--One word, I beseech you, father
Aldo.

_Aldo._ Not a syllable. What the devil's in you, daughter? Open, son,
open.

_Trick._ [_Aloud._] It shall not be opened; I will have my will,
though I lose my settlement. Would I were within the chest! I would
hold it down, to spite you. I say again, would I were within the
chest, I would hold it so fast, you should not open it.--The best on't