SKINK. At the Angel.
RED. A-Angel, the La-La-Lady Fa-Fa-Fauconbridge, Fa-Fan-Fanconbridge.
SKINK. Farewell and be hang'd, good stammering ninny, I think I have set your Redcap's heels a-running, would your pianot-chattering humour could as sa-safely se-set me fr-from the searchers' walks. Yonder comes some one. 'Hem! Skink, to your tricks this titty titty. Ah, the tongue, I believe, will fail me.[468]
SCENE THE SEVENTH.
Enter CONSTABLE and WATCH.
CON. Come, make up to this fellow, let th'other go, he seems a gentleman. [Exit REDCAP dressed as SKINK.] What are you, sir?
SKINK. Would I had kept my own suit, if the countenance carry it away.
CON. Stand, sirrah, what are you?
SKINK. The po-po-porter's son of the F-Fl-Fleet, going to Stepney about business to the La-La-Lady Fa-Fa-Fauconbridge.
CON. Well, bring him thither, some two or three of ye, honest neighbours, and so back to the Fleet; we'll show ourselves diligent above other officers.