_Moneywood_. Never tell me, Mr Luckless, of your play, and your
play. I tell you I must be paid. I would no more depend on a
benefit-night of an unacted play than I would on a benefit-ticket in
an undrawn lottery. Could I have guessed that I had a poet in my
house! Could I have looked for a poet under laced clothes!

_Luck_. Why not? since you may often find poverty under them:
nay, they are commonly the signs of it. And, therefore, why may not a
poet be seen in them as well as a courtier?

_Money_. Do you make a jest of my misfortune, sir?

_Luck_. Rather my misfortune. I am sure I have a better title to
poverty than you; for, notwithstanding the handsome figure I make,
unless you are so good to invite me, I am afraid I shall scarce
prevail on my stomach to dine to-day.

_Money_. Oh, never fear that--you will never want a dinner till
you have dined at all the eating-houses round.--No one shuts their
doors against you the first time; and I think you are so kind, seldom
to trouble them a second.

_Luck_. No.--And if you will give me leave to walk out of your
doors, the devil take me if ever I come into 'em again,

_Money_. Pay me, sir, what you owe me, and walk away whenever you
please.