Boy. Be you conceal'd by any means yet, hark,
They stop, I hope they'll to't agen, close Sir.
Enter Wildbrain, Toby, Ringers.
Wild. A palpable knock.
Ring. 'Twas none.
To. Be judg'd by the Sexton then,
If I have ears.
Sex. A knock, a knock, a gross one.
To. Carman, your gallon of wine, you ring most impiously,
Art thou o'th' worshipful company of the Knights o'th West,
And handle a bell with no more dexterity?
You think you are in Thames-street
Justling the Carts: oh a clean hand's a Jewel.
Boy. Good speed to your good exercise.
To. Y' are welcome.
Boy. I come, Sir, from a Gentleman, and neighbor hard by,
One that loves your Musick well.