Cour. Faith, that's something hard though, let me tell you but that, landlady.
Sylv. Upon these terms, we'll draw articles.
Cour. And when shall we sign them?
Sylv. Why, this morning, as soon as the ten o'clock office in Covent-garden is open.
Cour. A bargain; but how will you answer your entertainment of a drunken red-coat in your lodgings at these unseasonable hours?
Sylv. That's a secret you will be hereafter obliged to keep for your own sake; and for the family, your friend Beaugard shall answer for us there.
Cour. Indeed I fancied the rogue had mischief in his head, he behaved himself so soberly last night: has he taken a farm lately too?
Sylv. A trespasser, I believe, if the truth were known, upon the provender you would fain have been biting at just now.
Re-enter Maid.
Maid. Madam, madam, have a care of yourself: I see lights in the great hall; whatever is the matter, Sir Davy and all the family are up.