Du. We are arm'd, Sir.
Pet. Nor shall you see us more transgress.
Fred. What think'st thou
Now, John?
John. Why, now do I think, Frederick,
(And if I think amiss Heaven pardon me)
This honest Conjurer, with some four or five
Of his good fellow Devils, and my self,
Shall be yet drunk ere midnight.
SONG.
Come away, thou Lady gay,
Hoist; how she stumbles!
Hark how she mumbles.
Dame Gillian. Answer. I come, I come.
By old Claret I enlarge thee,
By Canary thus I charge thee,
By Britain, Mathewglin, and Peeter,
Appear and answer me in meeter.
Why when?
Why Gill?
Why when?
Answer. You'll tarry till I am ready.
Once again I conjure thee,
By the Pose in thy Nose,
And the Gout in thy Toes;
By thine old dryed Skin,
And the Mummie within;
By thy little, little Ruff,
And thy Hood that's made of Stuff;
By thy Bottle at thy Breech,
And thine old salt Itch;
By the Stakes, and the Stones,
That have worn out thy Bones.
Appear.
Appear.
Appear.
Answer. Oh I am here.
Fred. Peace, he conjures.
John. Why, this is the Song, Frederick; twenty pound now,
To see but our Don Gillian.
Enter Land-lady and the Child.
Fred. Peace, it appears.