Prince. I thank you, Sir, indeed I am not well.
Oliv. Methinks I find a Pleasure but in touching him—Wou’d I cou’d see his Face by all this fatal Light.
Enter Constable and Watch.
Const. So, so, the Fire abates, the Engines play’d rarely, and we have Ten Guineas here, Neighbours, to watch about the House; for where there’s Fire, there’s Rogues—Hum, who have we here?—How now, Mr.—Hum, what have you got under your Arm there, ha? Take away this Box of Jewels. Sir Morgan, and Sir Merlin, creeping out of the Cellar Window.
Ha, who have we here creeping out of the Cellar-Window? more Rogues!
Sir Mer. Sirrah! you’re a Baud, Sirrah! and for a Tester will wink at the Vices of the Nation, Sirrah! Call men of the best Quality Rogues! that have stood for Knights of the Shire, and made the Mobile drunk, Sirrah!
Const. We cry you Mercy, Sir, we did not know your Worships.
Sir Morg. Lookye, de see, here’s a Crown for you; carry us to the next Tavern, and we’ll make thee, and all thy Mirmidons, as drunk as a Boat in a Storm.
Oliv. Sir, I find you have Interest with these arbitrary Tyrants of the Parish; pray will you bail me, and this Gentleman?
Sir Mer. What, Endimion! my Lady Mirtilla’s Page? He lent me Money to Night at the Basset-Table; I’ll be bound Hand and Foot for him, Mr. Constable, and, gad, we’ll all to the Tavern, and [drink up the Sun], Boys.