Sir John. The Constable is a Rascal——and you are the Son of a Whore.
Watch. A good civil Answer for a Parson, truly!
Constab. Methinks, Sir, a Man of your Coat might set a better Example.
Sir John. Sirrah, I'll make you know——there are Men of my Coat can set as bad Examples——as you can do, you Dog, you.
[Sir John strikes the Constable. They knock him down, disarm him, and seize him. Lord Rake, &c. run away.
Constab. So, we have secur'd the Parson, however.
Sir John. Blood, and Blood——and Blood.
Watch. Lord have mercy upon us! How the wicked Wretch raves of Blood! I'll warrant he has been murdering some body to-night.
Sir John. Sirrah, there's nothing got by Murder but a Halter: My Talent lies towards Drunkenness and Simony.
Watch. Why, that now was spoke like a Man of Parts, Neighbours; 'tis pity he shou'd be so disguised.