Sul. The Rutter too, is gone.
Ja. O that was a brave Rascal,
He would labour like a Thrasher: but alas
What thing can ever last? he has been ill mew'd,
And drawn too soon; I have seen him in the Hospital.
Sul. There was an English-man.
Ja. I there was an English-man;
You'l scant find any now, to make that name good:
There were those English that were men indeed,
And would perform like men, but now they are vanisht:
They are so taken up in their own Country,
And so beaten of their speed by their own women,
When they come here, they draw their legs like Hackneys:
Drink, and their own devices have undone 'em.
Sul. I must have one that's strong, no life in Lisbon else,
Perfect and young: my Custom with young Ladies,
And high fed City dames, will fall, and break else.
I want my self too, in mine age to nourish me:
They are all sunk I mantain'd: now what's this business,
What goodly fellow's that?
Enter Rutilio and Officers.
Rut. Why do you drag me? Pox o' your justice; let me loose.
1 Offi. Not so Sir.
Rut. Cannot a man fall into one of your drunken Cellars, And venture the breaking on's neck, your trap-doors open, But he must be us'd thus rascally?
1 Offi. What made you wandring So late i'th' night? you know that is imprisonment.