Re-enter Page.
Lord Rake. How are the Streets inhabited, Sirrah?
Page. My Lord, 'tis Sunday-night; they are full of drunken Citizens.
Lord Rake. Along, then, Boys, we shall have a Feast.
Col. Bully. Along, noble Knight.
Sir John. Ay——along, Bully; and he that says Sir John Brute is not as drunk and as religious as the drunkenest Citizen of them all—is a Liar, and the Son of a Whore.
Col. Bully. Why, that was bravely spoke, and like a free-born Englishman.
Sir John. What's that to you, Sir, whether I am an Englishman or a Frenchman?
Col. Bully. Zoons, you are not angry, Sir?
Sir John. Zoons, I am angry, Sir——for if I'm a free-born Englishman, what have you to do even to talk of my Privileges?