Whiff. You us’d to be o’ my side when a Justice, let the Cause be how it wou’d. Weeps.
Whim. Ay—when I was a Justice I never minded Honesty, but now I’ll be true to my General, and hang thee to be a great Man.—
Whiff. If I might but have a fair Trial for my Life—
Whim. A fair Trial!—come, I’ll be thy Judge—and if thou canst clear thy self by Law, I’ll acquit thee: Sirrah, Sirrah, what canst thou say for thy self for calling his Honour Rebel? Sits on a Drum-head.
Whiff. ’T was when I was drunk, an’t like your Honour.
Whim. That’s no Plea; for if you kill a Man when you are sober, you must be hanged when you are drunk. Hast thou any thing else to say for thy self why Sentence may not pass upon thee?
Whiff. I desire the Benefit of the Clergy.
Whim. The Clergy! I never knew any body that ever did benefit by ’em; why, thou canst not read a word.
Whiff. Transportation then—
Whim. It shall be to England then—but hold—who’s this? Dullman creeping from a Bush.