L. Dunce. Really, Sir Jolly, you are more a philosopher than I thought you were.
Sir Jol. Philosopher, madam! yes, madam, I have read books in my times; odd, Aristotle, in some things, had very pretty notions, he was an understanding fellow. Why don't ye eat? odd, an ye don't eat—here, child, here's some ringoes,[54] help, help your neighbour a little; odd, they are very good, very comfortable, very cordial.
Beau. Sir Jolly, your health.
Sir Jol. With all my heart, old boy.
L. Dunce. Dear Sir Jolly, what are these? I never tasted of these before.
Sir Jol. That? eat it, eat it, eat it when I bid you; odd, 'tis the root satyrion,[55] a very precious plant, I gather 'em every May myself; odd, they'll make an old fellow of sixty-five cut a caper like a dancing-master. Give me some wine. Madam, here's a health, here's a health, madam, here's a health to honest Sir Davy, faith and troth, ha, ha, ha! [Dance.
Enter Bloody-Bones.
Bloody-B. Sir, sir, sir! what will you do? yonder's the constable and all his watch at the door, and threatens demolishment, if not admitted presently.
Sir Jol. Odds so! odds so! the constable and his watch! what's to be done now? get you both into the alcove there, get ye gone quickly, quickly; no noise, no noise, d'ye hear? [Exeunt Lady Dunce and Beaugard.] The constable and his watch! a pox on the constable and his watch! what the devil have the constable and his watch to do here?
Enter Constable, Watch, and Sir Davy Dunce.