Lope. A most disgraceful affair; the greatest insult to the service! One of my soldiers overtook me on the road, flying at full speed, and told me—Oh, the rascal!
Cres. Well, sir?
Lope. That some little pettifogging mayor of the place had got hold of a captain in my regiment, and put him in prison! In prison! ’Fore Heaven, I never really felt this confounded leg of mine till to-day, that it prevented me jumping on horseback at once to punish this trumpery Jack-in-office as he deserves. But here I am, and, by the Lord, I’ll thrash him within an inch of his life!
Cres. You will?
Lope. Will I!
Cres. But will he stand your thrashing?
Lope. Stand it or not, he shall have it.
Cres. Besides, might your captain happen to deserve what he met with?
Lope. And, if he did, I am his judge, not a trumpery mayor.
Cres. This mayor is an odd sort of customer to deal with, I assure you.