Volume Ii Part 74 (1/2)

_Dres_. That's well--The sanctify'd Jilt professes Innocence, yet has the Badge of her Occupation about her Neck.

[_Pulls off the Coat_.

_Sen_. Ah, Misfortune, I have mistook his Wors.h.i.+p's Coat for my Gown.

[_A little Book drops out of her Bosom_.

_Dres_. What have we here? A Sermon preacht by Richard Baxter, Divine.

Gad a mercy, Sweetheart, thou art a hopeful Member of the true Protestant Cause.

_Sen_. Alack, how the Saints may be scandaliz'd! I went but to tuck his Wors.h.i.+p up.

_Dres_. And comment upon the Text a little, which I suppose may be, increase and multiply--Here, gag, and bind her.

[_Exit_ Dres.

_Sen_. Hold, hold, I am with Child!

_Lab_. Then you'll go near to miscarry of a Babe of Grace.

_Enter_ Wild. Fop. _and others, leading in Sir_ Timothy _in his Night-gown and Night-Gap_.

Sir _Tim_. Gentlemen, why, Gentlemen, I beseech you use a Conscience in what you do, and have a feeling in what you go about--Pity my Age.

_Wild_. d.a.m.n'd beggarly Conscience, and needless Pity--

Sir _Tim_. Oh, fearful--But, Gentlemen, what is't you design? is it a general Ma.s.sacre, pray? or am I the only Person aim'd at as a Sacrifice for the Nation? I know, and all the World knows, how many Plots have been laid against my self, both by Men, Women, and Children, the diabolical Emissaries of the Pope.

_Wild_. How, Sirrah! [_Fiercely, he starts_.

Sir _Tim_. Nay, Gentlemen, not but I love and honour his Holiness with all my Soul; and if his Grace did but know what I've done for him, d'ye see--

_Fop_. You done for the Pope, Sirrah! Why, what have you done for the Pope?

Sir _Tim_. Why, Sir, an't like ye, I have done you very great Service, very great Service; for I have been, d'ye see, in a small Tryal I had, the cause and occasion of invalidating the Evidence to that degree, that I suppose no Jury in Christendom will ever have the Impudence to believe 'em hereafter, shou'd they swear against his Holiness and all the Conclave of Cardinals.

_Wild_. And yet you plot on still, cabal, treat, and keep open Debauch, for all the Renegado-Tories and old Commonwealthsmen to carry on the good Cause.

Sir _Tim_. Alas, what signifies that! You know, Gentlemen, that I have such a strange and natural Agility in turning--I shall whip about yet, and leave 'em all in the Lurch.

_Wild_. 'Tis very likely; but at this time we shall not take your Word for that.

Sir _Tim_. b.l.o.o.d.y-minded Men, are you resolv'd to a.s.sa.s.sinate me then?

_Wild_. You trifle, Sir, and know our Business better, than to think we come to take your Life, which wou'd not advantage a Dog, much less any Party or Person--Come, come, your Keys, your Keys.

_Fop_. Ay, ay, discover, discover your Money, Sir, your ready--

Sir _Tim_. Money, Sir, good lack, is that all? [_Smiling on 'em_.]

Why, what a Beast was I, not knowing of your coming, to put out all my Money last Week to Alderman Draw-tooth? Alack, alack, what s.h.i.+ft shall I make now to accommodate you?--But if you please to come again to morrow--

_Fop_. A shamming Rogue; the right Sneer and Grin of a dissembling Whig.

Come, come, deliver, Sir; we are for no Rhetorick but ready Money.