_Fop_. And who shall bind the last Man?
_Wild_. Honest Laboir, d'ye hear, Sirrah? you get drunk and lay in your Clothes under the Hall-Table; d'ye hear me? Look to't, ye Rascal, and carry things discreetly, or you'll be hang'd, that's certain.
[_Ex_. Wild, _and_ Dres.
_Fop_. So, now will I i'th' Morning to _Charlot_, and give her such a Character of her Love, as if she have Resentment, makes her mine.
[_Exit_ Fop.
Sir _Tim_. [_calls within_.] Ho, Jenkins, Roger, Simon! Where are these Rogues? none left alive to come to my Assistance? So ho, ho, ho, ho!
Rascals, Sluggards, Drones! so ho, ho, ho!
_Lab_. So, now's my Cue--and stay, I am not yet sober.
[_Puts himself into a drunken Posture_.
Sir _Tim_. Dogs, Rogues, none hear me? Fire, fire, fire!
_Lab_. Water, water, I say; for I am damnable dry.
Sir _Tim_. Hah, who's there?
_Lab_. What doleful Voice is that?
Sir _Tim_. What art thou, Friend or Foe? [_In a doleful Tone_.
_Lab_. Very direful--why, what the Devil art thou?
Sir _Tim_. If thou'rt a Friend, approach, approach the wretched.
_Lab_. Wretched! What art thou, Ghost, Hobgoblin, or walking Spirit?
[_Reeling in with a Lanthorn in's Hand_.
Sir _Tim_. Oh, neither, neither, but mere Mortal, Sir _Timothy Treat-all_, robb'd and bound.
[_Coming out led by_ Laboir.
_Lab_. How, our generous Host!
Sir _Tim_. How, one of my Lord's Servants! Alas, alas, how cam'st thou to escape?
_Lab_. E'en by miracle, Sir; by being drunk, and falling asleep under the Hall-Table with your Worship's Dog Tory, till just now a Dream of Small-beer wak'd me: and crawling from my Kennel to secure the black Jack, I stumbled upon this Lanthorn, which I took for one, till I found a Candle in't, which helps me to serve your Worship.
[_Goes to unbind his Hands_.
Sir _Tim_. Hold, hold, I say; for I scorn to be so uncivil to be unbound before his Lordship: therefore run, Friend, to his Honour's Chamber, for he, alas, is confined too.
_Lab_. What, and leave his worthy Friend in distress? by no means, Sir.
Sir _Tim_. Well then, come, let's to my Lord, whom if I be not asham'd to look in the Face, I am an errant Sarazen.
[_Exit Sir_ Tim. _and_ Lab.
SCENE II. _Changes to_ Wilding's _Chamber_.
_He is discovered sitting in a Chair bound, his Valet bound by him; to them Sir_ Timothy _and_ Laboir.
_Wild_. Peace, Sirrah, for sure I hear some coming--Villains, Rogues! I care not for my self, but for the good pious Alderman.
[_Sir_ Tim. _as listening_.
Sir _Tim_. Wonderful Goodness, for me! Alas, my Lord, this sight will break my Heart.
[_Weeps_.
_Wild_. Sir _Timothy_ safe! nay, then I do forgive 'em.
Sir _Tim_. Alas, my Lord, I've heard of your rigid Fate.
_Wild_. It is my Custom, Sir, to pray an Hour or two in my Chamber, before I go to Bed; and having pray'd that drousy Slave asleep, the Thieves broke in upon us unawares, I having laid my Sword aside.
Sir _Tim_. Oh, Heavens, at his Prayers! damn'd Ruffians, and wou'd they not stay till you had said your Prayers?
_Wild_. By no Persuasion--Can you not guess who they shou'd be, Sir?
Sir _Tim_. Oh, some damn'd Tory-rory Rogues, you may be sure, to rob a Man at his Prayers! why, what will this World come to?
_Wild_. Let us not talk, Sir, but pursue 'em.
[_Offering to go_.
Sir _Tim_. Pursue 'em! alas, they're past our reach by this time.
_Wild_. Oh, Sir, they are nearer than you imagine: some that know each Corner of your House, I'll warrant.
Sir _Tim_. Think ye so, my Lord? ay, this comes of keeping open House; which makes so many shut up their Doors at Dinner-time.
_Enter_ Dresswell.
_Dres_. Good Morrow, Gentlemen! what, was the Devil broke loose to night?
Sir _Tim_. Only some of his Imps, Sir, saucy Varlets, insupportable Rascals--But well, my Lord, now I have seen your Lordship at liberty, I'll leave you to your rest, and go see what Harm this night's Work has done.
_Wild_. I have a little Business, Sir, and will take this time to dispatch it in; my Servants shall to Bed, though 'tis already day--I'll wait on you at Dinner.
Sir _Tim_. Your time; my House and all I have is yours; and so I take my Leave of your Lordship.
[_Ex. Sir_ Tim.
_Wild_. Now for my angry Maid, the young _Charlot_; 'Twill be a Task to soften her to Peace; She is all new and gay, young as the Morn, Blushing as tender Rose-Buds on their Stalks, Pregnant with Sweets, for the next Sun to ravish.
--Come, thou shalt along with me, I'll trust thy Friendship.
[_Exeunt_.
SCENE III. _Changes to_ Diana's _Chamber_.