[Exit Lory, his Master follows him out at one Door, as Sir John enters at t'other.
Enter Sir John.
Sir Tun. Sir John, you are the welcom'st Man alive; I had just sent a Messenger to desire you'd step over, upon a very extraordinary Occasion—we are all in Arms here.
Sir John. How so?
Sir Tun. Why, you must know——a sinical sort of a tawdry Fellow here (I don't know who the Devil he is, not I) hearing, I suppose, that the Match was concluded between my Lord Foppington and my Girl Hoyden, comes impudently to the Gate, and with a whole Pack of Rogues in Liveries, wou'd have pass'd upon me for his Lordship: But what does I? I comes up to him boldly at the Head of his Guards, takes him by the Throat, strikes up his Heels, binds him Hand and Foot, dispatches a Warrant, and commits him Prisoner to the Dog-kennel.
Sir John. So, but how do you know but this was my Lord? for I was told he set out from London the Day before me, with a very fine Retinue, and intended to come directly hither.
Sir Tun. Why now to shew you how many Lies People raise in that damn'd Town, he came two Nights ago Post, with only one Servant, and is now in the House with me: But you don't know the Cream of the Jest yet; this same Rogue, (that lies yonder Neck and Heels among the Hounds) thinking you were out of the Country, quotes you for his Acquaintance, and said, if you were here, you'd justify him to be Lord Foppington, and I know not what.
Sir John. Pray will you let me see him?
Sir Tun. Ay, that you shall presently——here, fetch the Prisoner.
[Exit Servant.