MISS HOYDEN.
Not so fast; I won’t be locked up any more, now I’m married.
TOM FASHION.
Yes, pray, my dear, do, till we have seized this rascal.
MISS HOYDEN.
Nay, if you’ll pray me, I’ll do anything. [Exit with NURSE.]
TOM FASHION.
Hark you, sirrah, things are better than you imagine. The wedding’s over.
LORY.
The devil it is, sir! [Capers about.]
TOM FASHION.
Not a word—all’s safe—but Sir Tunbelly don’t know it, nor must not yet. So I am resolved to brazen the brunt of the business out, and have the pleasure of turning the impostor upon his lordship, which I believe may easily be done.
Enter SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. Did you ever hear, sir, of so impudent an undertaking?
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Never, by the mass; but we’ll tickle him, I’ll warrant you.
TOM FASHION.
They tell me, sir, he has a great many people with him, disguised like servants.
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Ay, ay, rogues enow, but we have mastered them. We only fired a few shot over their heads, and the regiment scoured in an instant.—Here, Tummus, bring in your prisoner.