Lord Fop. Nay, pr'ythee, Knight, leave fooling, thy Jest begins to grow dull.
Sir Tun. Bind him, I say, he's mad——Bread and Water, a dark Room, and a Whip, may bring him to his Senses again.
Lord Fop. [Aside.] I'gad, if I don't waken quickly, by all that I can see, this is like to prove one of the most impertinent Dreams that ever I dreamt in my Life.
Enter Miss and Nurse. [Miss going up to him.]
Miss. Is this he that wou'd have run away with me? Fough, how he stinks of sweets! Pray, Father, let him be dragg'd through the Horse-Pond.
Lord Fop. [Aside.] This must be my Wife by her natural Inclination to her Husband.
Miss. Pray, Father, what do you intend to do with him? hang him?
Sir Tun. That at least, Child.
Nurse. Ay, and it's e'en too good for him too.