seems more disposed to hinder than to help me."

"Forbear, mistress; for the love of God, forbear!" cries Simon, in an
agony, clasping his hands. "Be not misguided by this foolish merchant,
who hath all to gain and nought to lose by this proceeding. Give me but
a little space, and their claims shall be met, thy desires shall be
satisfied, and yet half of thy estate be saved, which else must be all
devoured betwixt these ruthless money-lenders and lawyers. I can make a
covenant more binding than any attorney, as I have proved again and
again, and" (with a gulp) "if money must be raised at once, I know an
honest, a fairly honest, goldsmith in Lombard Street who will lend at
the market rate."

"These gentlemen," answers Moll, turning to us, "may not choose to wait,
and I will not incommode them for my own convenience."

"Something for our present need we must have, Madam," says the Don, with
a significant glance at his outlandish dress; "but those wants supplied,
_I_ am content to wait."

"And you, sir?" says Moll to me.

"With a hundred or two," says I, taking Don Sanchez's hint, "we may do
very well till Michaelmas."

"Be reasonable, gentlemen," implores Simon, mopping his eyes, which ran
afresh at this demand. "'Tis but some five or six weeks to Michaelmas;
surely fifty pounds--"

"Silence!" cries Moll, with an angry tap of her foot. "Will three