Lan. Nor here Sir,
Gave we the frolick over: though at length
We quit the Ladies Skonce on composition;
But to the silent streets we turn'd our furies:
A sleeping watchman here we stole the shooes from,
There made a noise, at which he wakes, and follows:
The streets are durty, takes a queen-hith cold,
Hard cheese, and that choaks him o' Munday next:
Windows, and signs we sent to Erebus;
A crue of bawling curs we entertain'd last,
When having let the pigs loose in out parishes,
O the brave cry we made as high as Algate!
Down comes a Constable, and the Sow his Sister
Most traiterously tramples upon Authority,
There a whole stand of rug gowns rowted manly
And the Kings peace put to flight: a purblind pig here
Runs me his head into the Admirable Lanthorn,
Out goes the light, and all turns to confusion:
A potter rises, to enquire this passion,
A Boar imbost takes sanctuary in his shop,
When twenty dogs rush after, we still cheering,
Down goe the pots, and pipkins, down the pudding pans,
The cream-bolls cry revenge here, there the candlesticks.
Seb. If this be true, thou little tyney page,
This tale that thou tell'st me,
Then on thy back will I presently hang
A handsom new Livery:
But if this be false, thou little tyney page
As false it well may be,
Then with a cudgel of four foot long
I'le beat thee from head to toe.
Enter Servant.
Seb. Will the boy come?
Ser. He will Sir.
Enter Thomas.
Seb. Time tries all then.
Lan. Here he comes now himself Sir.
Seb. To be short Thomas,
Because I feel a scruple in my conscience
Concerning thy demeanour, and a main one,
And therefore like a Father would be satisfi'd,
Get up to that window there, and presently
Like a most compleat Gentleman, come from Tripoly.
Tom. Good Lord Sir, how are you misled: what fancies
(Fitter for idle boys, and drunkards, let me speak't,
And with a little wonder I beseech [y]ou)
Choak up your noble judgement?