Lord Rake. Why, pr'ythee, Knight, don't quarrel here; leave private Animosities to be decided by Day-light; let the Night be employ'd against the publick Enemy.
Sir John. My Lord, I respect you because you are a Man of Quality. But I'll make that Fellow know, I am within a Hair's breadth as absolute by my Privileges, as the King of France is by his Prerogative. He by his Prerogative takes Money where it is not his due; I by my Privilege refuse paying it where I owe it. Liberty and Property, and Old England, Huzza!
All. Huzza!
[Exit Sir John reeling, all following him.
SCENE, A Bed-Chamber.
Enter Lady Brute and Belinda.
Lady Brute. Sure 'tis late, Belinda; I begin to be sleepy.
Bel. Yes, 'tis near Twelve. Will you go to Bed?
Lady Brute. To Bed, my Dear? And by that time I am fallen into a sweet Sleep (or perhaps a sweet Dream, which is better and better) Sir John will come home roaring drunk, and be overjoy'd he finds me in a Condition to be disturb'd.