[Exeunt.
—Let me see—I have got no ready stuff to banter with—but no matter, any Gibberish will serve the Fools—’tis now about the hour of Ten—but Twelve is my appointed lucky Minute, when all the Blessings that my Soul could wish, shall be resign’d to me.
Enter Bredwel.
—Hah! who’s there? Bredwel?
Bred. Oh, are you come, Sir—and can you be so kind to a poor Youth, to favour his Designs, and bless his Days?
Gay. Yes, I am ready here with all my Devils, both to secure you your Mistress, and to cudgel your Captain and Squire, for abusing me behind my Back so basely.
Bred. ‘Twas most unmanly, Sir, and they deserve it—I wonder that they come not.
Gay. How durst you trust her with him?
Bred. Because ‘tis dangerous to steal a City-Heiress, and let the Theft be his—so the dear Maid be mine—Hark—sure they come—
Enter Bearjest, runs against Bredwel.