Lord Fop. What the Pax do you mean, Gentlemen, is it Fair time, that you are all drunk before Dinner?
Sir Tun. Drunk, Sirrah! Here's an impudent Rogue for you! Drunk or Sober, Bully, I'm a Justice of the Peace, and know how to deal with Strolers.
Lord Fop. Strolers!
Sir Tun. Ay, Strolers; come, give an account of yourself; what's your Name? where do you live? Do you pay Scot and Lot? Are you a Williamite, or a Jacobite? Come.
Lord Fop. And why dost thou ask me so many impertinent Questions?
Sir Tun. Because I'll make you answer 'em before I have done with you, you Rascal you.
Lord Fop. Before Gad, all the Answer I can make thee to 'em, is, that thou art a very extraordinary old Fellow; stap my Vitals—
Sir Tun. Nay, if you are for joaking with Deputy-Lieutenants, we know how to deal with you: Here, draw a Warrant for him immediately.
Lord Fop. A Warrant——what the Devil is't thou wou'dst be at, old Gentleman?