But let not scruples rule you at this crisis:
In my poor judgment, 'twould undo us all.
Consult your friend, the faithful lady Belmour;
None can advise you better on this subject.

Mrs. ANDREWS. O! but Maria, this is not the whole.
My ill success at play for some time past,
Hath far exceeded all hath yet befall'n me:
This hurried me to borrow of lord Belmour
A thousand pieces, which, with the several sums
I've lost to him (not small), must now be paid;
But above all,--ill fate! is the discovery
Of the false key to my wrong'd husband's chest:
Which must be so; as other locks are fix'd
On it, and every door that leads thereto.

MARIA. The work this, of my old officious husband. [Walks apart
and pauses.]
Now for due vengeance for the killing flights,
That youth, the scornful Jefferson, hath cast
On me, and my ill-fated fondness for him. [Returning.]
What think you of a further application
To the cashier; your worthy friend young Jefferson?

Mrs. ANDREWS. I cannot: he already hath assur'd me,
He dares not venture to supply me further.

MARIA. I doubt not but he told you so; and yet,
My hopes are surety still for his compliance.
There is no danger he'd not risk to serve you.