Doct. Ay, Fiddles, Knave.
Scar. Fiddles, Sir!—Where?
Doct. Here, here I heard ‘em, thou false Steward of thy Master’s Treasure.
Scar. Fiddles, Sir! Sure ‘twas Wind got into your Head, and whistled in your Ears, riding so late, Sir.
Doct. Ay, thou false Varlet, there’s another debt I owe thee, for bringing me so damnable a Lye: my Brother’s well—I met his Valet but a League from Town, and found thy Roguery out. [Beats him. He cries.
Scar. Is this the Reward I have for being so diligent since you went?
Doct. In what, thou Villain? in what?
[The Curtain is drawn up, and discovers the Hangings where all of them stand.
Scar. Why, look you, Sir, I have, to surprize you with Pleasure, against you came home, been putting up this Piece of Tapestry, the best in Italy, for the Rareness of the Figures, Sir.
Doct. Ha! hum—It is indeed a Stately Piece of Work; how came I by ‘em?