RABANUS, SYRUS.
RA. Soho, soho, Rascal, I am hoarse a bawling to you, and you lye snoring still, you'll sleep for ever I think in my Conscience; either get up presently or I'll rouze you with a good Cudgel. When will you have slept out your Yesterday's Debauch? Are you not asham'd, you sleepy Sot, to lye a-bed till this time of Day? Good Servants rise as soon as it is Day, and take Care to get every Thing in order before their Master rises. How loth this Drone is to leave his warm Nest! he is a whole Hour a scratching, and stretching, and yawning.
Sy. It is scarce Day yet.
Ra. I believe not to you; it is Midnight yet to your Eyes.
Sy. What do you want me to do?
Ra. Make the Fire burn, brush my Cap and Cloke, clean my Shoes and Galloshoes, take my Stockings and turn them inside out, and brush them well, first within, and then without, burn a little Perfume to sweeten the Air, light a Candle, give me a clean Shirt, air it well before a clear Fire.
Sy. It shall be done Sir.
Ra. But make Haste then, all this ought to have been done before now.
Sy. I do make Haste Sir.
Ra. I see what Haste you make, you are never the forwarder, you go a Snail's Gallop.