Phil. Betray’d and lost! Dreams, idle Coward Dreams.
Men. Sir, by my Holy Order, I’m in earnest, And you must either quickly fly, or die; ’.is so ordain’d—nor have I time to tell By what strange Miracle I learn’d our Fate.
Phil. Nor care I, I will stay, and brave it.
Men. That, Sir, you shall not, there’s no safety here, And ‘tis the Army only can secure us.
Phil. Where had you this Intelligence?
Men. I’ll tell you as we go to my Apartment;
Where we must put ourselves in Holy Dress;
For so the Guards are set in every Place,
(And those all Moors, the Slaves of Abdelazer)
That ‘tis impossible in any other Habit to escape.
Come, haste with me, and let us put ‘em on.
Phil. I had rather stay and kill till I am weary— Let’s to the Queen’s Apartment and seize this Moor; I’m sure there the Mongrel’s kennel’d.
Men. Sir, we lose time in talking—Come with me.
Phil. Where be these lousy Gaberdines?
Men. I will conduct you to ‘em.