Mrs. Over. Alas, poor Numps!
Waspe. Alas! and why alas from you, I beseech you? or why poor Numps, goody Rich? Am I come to be pitied by your tuft-taffata now? Why, mistress, I knew Adam the clerk, your husband, when he was Adam Scrivener, and writ for two-pence a sheet, as high as he bears his head now, or you your hood, dame.—
Enter BRISTLE and other Watchmen.
What are you, sir?
Bri. We be men, and no infidels; what is the matter here, and the noises, can you tell?
Waspe. Heart, what ha’ you to do? cannot a man quarrel in quietness, but he must be put out on’t by you! what are you?
Bri. Why, we be his majesty’s watch, sir.
Waspe. Watch! ’sblood, you are a sweet watch indeed. A body would think, an you watch’d well a nights, you should be contented to sleep at this time a day. Get you to your fleas and your flock-beds, you rogues, your kennels, and lie down close.
Bri. Down! yes, we will down, I warrant you: down with him, in his majesty’s name, down, down with him, and carry him away to the pigeon-holes.
[Some of the Watch seize Waspe, and carry him off.