_Const._ Heav'n! Sir _John_, what's the matter?
_Sir John._ Sure, if Women had been ready created, the Devil, instead
of being kick'd down into Hell, had been marry'd.
_Heart._ Why, what new Plague have you found now?
_Sir John._ Why, these two Gentlewomen did but hear me say, I expected
you here this Afternoon; upon which they presently resolv'd to take up
the Room, o' purpose to plague me and my Friends.
_Const._ Was that all? Why, we shou'd have been glad of their Company.
_Sir John._ Then I should have been weary of yours; for I can't relish
both together. They found fault with my smoaking Tobacco, too; and said
Men stunk. But I have a good mind--to say something.
_Const._ No, nothing against the Ladies, pray.
_Sir John._ Split the Ladies! Come, will you sit down? Give us some
Wine, Fellow: You won't smoak?
_Const._. No; nor drink, neither, at this time--I must ask your Pardon.
_Sir John._ What, this Mistress of yours runs in your Head! I'll
warrant it's some such squeamish Minx as my Wife, that's grown so
dainty of late, she finds fault even with a dirty Shirt.
_Heart._ That a Woman may do, and not be very dainty, neither.
_Sir John._ Pox o' the Women! let's drink. Come, you shall take one
Glass, tho' I send for a Box of Lozenges to sweeten your Mouth after it.
_Const._ Nay, if one Glass will satisfy you, I'll drink it, without
putting you to that Expence.
_Sir John._ Why, that's honest. Fill some Wine, Sirrah: So here's to
you, Gentlemen--A Wife's the Devil. To your being both married.
[_They drink._
_Heart._ O, your most humble Servant, Sir.
_Sir John._ Well, how do you like my Wine?
_Const._ 'Tis very good, indeed.
_Heart._ 'Tis admirable.
_Sir John._ Then give us t'other Glass.
_Const._ No, pray excuse us now: We'll come another time, and then we
won't spare it.
_Sir John._ This one Glass, and no more: Come, it shall be your
Mistress's Health: And that's a great Compliment from me, I assure you.
_Const._ And 'tis a very obliging one to me: So give us the Glasses.
_Sir John._ So: let her live--
[_Sir ~John~ coughs in the Glass._
_Heart._ And be kind.
_Const._ What's the matter? Does it go the wrong way?
_Sir John._ If I had Love enough to be jealous, I shou'd take this for
an ill Omen: For I never drank my Wife's Health in my Life, but I puk'd
in the Glass.
_Const._ O, she's too virtuous to make a reasonable Man jealous.
_Sir John._ Pox of her Virtue! If I cou'd but catch her Adulterating, I
might be divorc'd from her by Law.
_Heart._ And so pay her a yearly Pension, to be a distinguish'd Cuckold.
_Enter Servant._
_Serv._ Sir, there's my Lord _Rake_, Colonel _Bully_, and some other
Gentlemen at the _Blue-Posts_, desire your Company.
_Sir John._ Cod's so, we are to consult about playing the Devil
to-night.
_Heart._ Well, we won't hinder Business.
_Sir John._ Methinks I don't know how to leave you, tho': But for once
I must make bold. Or look you; may be the Conference mayn't last long:
So, if you'll wait here half an hour, or an hour; if I don't come
then--why, then--I won't come at all.
_Heart._ [_To ~Const~._] A good modest Proposition, truly!
[_Aside._
_Const._ But let's accept on't, however. Who knows what may happen?
_Heart._ Well, Sir, to shew you how fond we are of your Company, we'll
expect your Return as long as we can.
_Sir John._ Nay, may be I mayn't stay at all. But Business, you know,
must be done. So your Servant--Or hark you, if you have a mind to
take a Frisk with us, I have an Interest with my Lord; I can easily
introduce you.
_Const._ We are much beholden to you; but for my part, I'm engag'd
another way.
_Sir John._ What! to your Mistress, I'll warrant. Pr'ythee, leave your
nasty Punk to entertain herself with her own lewd Thoughts, and make
one with us to-night.
_Const._ Sir, 'tis Business that is to employ me.
_Heart._ And me; and Business must be done, you know.
_Sir John._ Ay, Women's Business, tho' the World were consum'd for't.
[_Exit Sir ~John~._
_Const._ Farewel, Beast! And now, my dear Friend, would my Mistress
be but as complaisant as some Men's Wives, who think it a piece of
good Breeding to receive the Visits of their Husband's Friends in his
Absence!
_Heart._ Why, for your sake I could forgive her, tho' she should be
so complaisant to receive something else in his Absence. But what way
shall we invent to see her?
_Const._ O, ne'er hope it: Invention will prove as vain as Wishes.
_Enter Lady ~Brute~ and ~Belinda~._
_Heart._ What do you think now, Friend?
_Const._ I think I shall swoon.
_Heart._ I'll speak first, then, whilst you fetch breath.
_Lady Brute._ We think ourselves oblig'd, Gentlemen, to come and return
you thanks for your Knight-Errantry. We were just upon being devour'd
by the fiery Dragon.
_Bel._ Did not his Fumes almost knock you down, Gentlemen?
_Heart._ Truly, Ladies, we did undergo some Hardships; and should have
done more, if some greater Heroes than ourselves, hard by, had not
diverted him.
_Const._ Tho' I'm glad of the Service you are pleas'd to say we have
done you, yet I'm sorry we could do it in no other way, than by making
ourselves privy to what you would perhaps have kept a Secret.
_Lady Brute._ For Sir _John_'s part, I suppose he design'd it no
Secret, since he made so much Noise. And for myself, truly I'm not
much concern'd, since 'tis fallen only into this Gentleman's Hands and
yours; who, I have many Reasons to believe, will neither interpret nor
report any thing to my disadvantage.
_Const._ Your good Opinion, Madam, was what I fear'd I never could have
merited.
_Lady Brute._ Your Fears were vain, then, Sir; for I'm just to every
body.
_Heart._ Pr'ythee, _Constant_, what is't you do to get the Ladies good
Opinions? for I'm a Novice at it.
_Bel._ Sir, will you give me leave to instruct you?
_Heart._ Yes, that I will, with all my Soul, Madam.
_Bel._ Why, then, you must never be slovenly, never be out of humour,
fare well and cry Roast-meat, smoak Tobacco, nor drink but when you are
dry.
_Heart._ That's hard.
_Const._ Nay, if you take his Bottle from him, you break his Heart,
Madam.
_Bel._ Why, is it possible the Gentleman can love Drinking?
_Heart._ Only by way of Antidote.
_Bel._ Against what, pray?
_Heart._ Against Love, Madam.
_Lady Brute._ Are you afraid of being in Love, Sir?
_Heart._ I should, if there were any Danger of it.
_Lady Brute._ Pray why so?
_Heart._ Because I always had an Aversion to being us'd like a Dog.
_Bel._ Why, truly, Men in Love are seldom us'd better.
_Lady Brute._ But was you never in Love, Sir?
_Heart._ No, I thank Heav'n, Madam.
_Bel._ Pray, where got you your Learning, then?
_Heart._ From other People's Expence.
_Bel._ That's being a Spunger, Sir, which is scarce honest: If you'd
buy some Experience with your own Money, as 'twould be fairlier got, so
'twould stick longer by you.
_Enter Footman._
_Foot._ Madam, here's my Lady _Fancyfull_, to wait upon your Ladyship.
_Lady Brute._ Shield me, kind Heaven! What an Inundation of
Impertinence is here coming upon us!
_Enter Lady ~Fancyfull~, who runs first to Lady ~Brute~,
then to ~Belinda~, kissing 'em._
_Lady Fan._ My dear Lady _Brute_, and sweet _Belinda_, methinks 'tis an
Age since I saw you.
_Lady Brute._ Yet 'tis but three Days; sure you have pass'd your time
very ill, it seems so long to you.
_Lady Fan._ Why, really, to confess the truth to you, I am so
everlastingly fatigu'd with the Addresses of unfortunate Gentlemen,
that, were it not for the Extravagancy of the Example, I shou'd e'en
tear out these wicked Eyes with my own Fingers, to make both myself and
Mankind easy. What think you on't, Mr. _Heartfree_, for I take you to
be my faithful Adviser?
_Heart._ Why, truly, Madam--I think--every Project that is for the good
of Mankind ought to be encourag'd.
_Lady Fan._ Then I have your Consent, Sir?
_Heart._ To do whatever you please, Madam.
_Lady Fan._ You had a much more limited Complaisance this Morning,
Sir. Would you believe it, Ladies? The Gentleman has been so exceeding
generous, to tell me of above fifty Faults, in less time than it was
well possible for me to commit two of 'em.
_Const._ Why, truly, Madam, my Friend there is apt to be something
familiar with the Ladies.
_Lady Fan._ He is, indeed, Sir; but he's wondrous charitable with
it: He has had the Goodness to design a Reformation, even down to my
Fingers-ends.----'Twas thus, I think, Sir, [_Opening her fingers in an
aukward manner._] you'd have had 'em stand--My Eyes, too, he did not
like: How was't you wou'd have directed 'em? Thus, I think. [_Staring
at him._]--Then there was something amiss in my Gait, too: I don't know
well how 'twas; but as I take it, he would have had me walk like him.
Pray, Sir, do me the Favour to take a turn or two about the Room, that
the Company may see you.--He's sullen, Ladies, and won't. But, to make
short, and give you as true an Idea as I can of the matter, I think
'twas much about this Figure, in general, he would have moulded me to:
But I was an obstinate Woman, and could not resolve to make myself
Mistress of his Heart, by growing as aukward as his Fancy.
[_She walks aukwardly about, staring and looking ungainly,
then changes on a sudden to the Extremity of her
usual Affectation._
_Heart._. Just thus Women do, when they think we are in love with em,
or when they are so with us.
[_Here ~Constant~ and Lady ~Brute~ talk together apart._
_Lady Fan._ 'Twould, however, be less Vanity for me to conclude the
former, than you the latter, Sir.
_Heart._. Madam, all I shall presume to conclude, is, That if I wer in
love, you'd find the means to make me soon weary on't.
_Lady Fan._ Not by Over-fondness, upon my Word, Sir. But pray let's
stop here; for you are so much govern'd by Instinct, I know you'll grow
brutish at last.
_Bel._ [_Aside._] Now am I sure she's fond of him: I'll try to make her
jealous. Well, for my part, I should be glad to find somebody would be
so free with me, that I might know my Faults, and mend 'em.
_Lady Fan._ Then pray let me recommend this Gentleman to you: I
have known him some time, and will be Surety for him, that upon a
very limited Encouragement on your side, you shall find an extended
Impudence on his.
_Heart._ I thank you, Madam, for your Recommendation: But hating
Idleness, I'm unwilling to enter into a Place where I believe there
would be nothing to do. I was fond of serving your Ladyship, because I
knew you'd find me constant Employment.
_Lady Fan._ I told you he'd be rude, _Belinda_.
_Bel._ O, a little Bluntness is a sign of Honesty, which makes me
always ready to pardon it. So, Sir, if you have no other Exceptions to
my Service, but the fear of being idle in it, you may venture to lift
yourself: I shall find you Work, I warrant you.
_Heart._ Upon those Terms I engage, Madam; and this (with your leave) I
take for Earnest.
[_Offering to kiss her Hand._
_Bel._ Hold there, Sir; I'm none of your Earnest-givers. But if I'm
well serv'd, I give good Wages, and pay punctually.
[_~Heartf~. and ~Bel~. seem to continue talking familiarly._
_Lady Fan._ [_Aside._] I don't like this jesting between 'em--Methinks
the Fool begins to look as if he were in earnest.----But then he must
be a Fool, indeed.----Lard, what a Difference there is between me and
her! [_Looking at ~Bel~. scornfully._] How I shou'd despise such a
Thing, if I were a Man!----What a Nose she has!--What a Chin----What
a Neck!----Then her Eyes----And the worst kissing Lips in the
Universe----No, no, he can never like her, that's positive----Yet I
can't suffer 'em together any longer. Mr. _Heartfree_, do you know that
you and I must have no Quarrel for all this? I can't forbear being a
little severe now and then: But Women, you know, may be allowed any
thing.
_Heart._ Up to a certain Age, Madam.
_Lady Fan._ Which I'm not yet past, I hope.
_Heart._ [_Aside._] Nor never will, I dare swear.
_Lady Fan._ [_To Lady ~Brute~._] Come, Madam, will your Ladyship be
Witness to our Reconciliation?
_Lady Brute._ You agree, then, at last?
_Heart._ [_Slightingly._] We forgive.
_Lady Fan._ [_Aside._] That was a cold, ill-natur'd Reply.
_Lady Brute._ Then there's no Challenges sent between you?
_Heart._ Not from me, I promise. [_Aside to ~Constant~._] But that's
more than I'll do for her; for I know she can as well be damn'd as
forbear writing to me.
_Const._ That I believe. But I think we had best be going, lest she
should suspect something, and be malicious.
_Heart._ With all my heart.
_Const._ Ladies, we are your humble Servants. I see Sir _John_ is quite
engag'd, 'twould be in vain to expect him. Come, _Heartfree_.
[_Exit._
_Heart._ Ladies, your Servant. [_To ~Belinda~._] I hope, Madam, you
won't forget our Bargain; I'm to say what I please to you.
[_Exit ~Heartfree~._
_Bel._ Liberty of Speech entire, Sir.
_Lady Fan._ [_Aside._] Very pretty truly--But how the Blockhead went
out--languishing at her, and not a Look toward me!--Well, Churchmen may
talk, but Miracles are not ceas'd. For 'tis more than natural, such
a rude Fellow as he, and such a little Impertinent as she, should be
capable of making a Woman of my Sphere uneasy. But I can bear her sight
no longer----methinks she's grown ten times uglier than _Cornet_. I
must home, and study Revenge. [_To Lady ~Brute~._] Madam, your humble
Servant; I must take my leave.
_Lady Brute._ What, going already, Madam?
_Lady Fan._ I must beg you'll excuse me this once; for really I have
eighteen Visits to return this Afternoon: So you see I'm importun'd by
the Women as well as the Men.
_Bel._ [_Aside._] And she's quits with them both.
_Lady Fan._ [_Going._] Nay, you shan't go one Step out of the Room.
_Lady Brute._ Indeed I'll wait upon you down.
_Lady Fan._ No, sweet Lady _Brute_, you know I swoon at Ceremony.
_Lady Brute._ Pray give me leave.
_Lady Fan._ You know I won't.
_Lady Brute._ Indeed I must.
_Lady Fan._ Indeed you shan't.
_Lady Brute._ Indeed I will.
_Lady Fan._. Indeed you shan't.
_Lady Brute._ Indeed I will.
_Lady Fan._ Indeed you shan't. Indeed, indeed, indeed you shan't.
[_Exit Lady ~Fan~. running; they follow._
_Re-enter Lady ~Brute~ sola._
This impertinent Woman has put me out of Humour for a Fortnight----What
an agreeable Moment has her foolish Visit interrupted! Lord, how like
a Torrent Love flows into the Heart, when once the Sluice of Desire is
open'd! Good Gods! What a Pleasure there is in doing what we should not
do!
_Re-enter ~Constant~._
Ha! here again?
_Const._ Tho' the renewing my Visit may seem a little irregular, I hope
I shall obtain your Pardon for it, Madam, when you know I only left the
Room, lest the Lady who was here should have been as malicious in her
Remarks as she's foolish in her Conduct.
_Lady Brute._ He who has Discretion enough to be tender of a Woman's
Reputation, carries a Virtue about him may atone for a great many
Faults.
_Const._ If it has a Title to atone for any, its Pretensions must needs
be strongest where the Crime is Love. I therefore hope I shall be
forgiven the Attempt I have made upon your Heart, since my Enterprize
has been a Secret to all the World but yourself.
_Lady Brute._ Secrecy, indeed, in Sins of this kind, is an Argument
of weight to lessen the Punishment; but nothing's a Plea for a Pardon
entire, without a sincere Repentance.
_Const._ If Sincerity in Repentance consists in Sorrow for offending,
no Cloyster ever inclos'd so true a Penitent as I should be. But I hope
it cannot be reckon'd an Offence to love where 'tis a Duty to adore.
_Lady Brute._ 'Tis an Offence, a great one, where it would rob a Woman
of all she ought to be ador'd for--her Virtue.
_Const._ Virtue?--Virtue, alas! is no more like the thing that's
call'd so, than 'tis like Vice itself. Virtue consists in Goodness,
Honour, Gratitude, Sincerity, and Pity; and not in peevish, snarling,
strait-lac'd Chastity. True Virtue, wheresoever it moves, still carries
an intrinsick Worth about it, and is in every Place, and in each Sex,
of equal Value. So is not Continence, you see: That Phantom of Honour,
which Men in every Age have so contemned, they have thrown it amongst
the Women to scrabble for.
_Lady Brute._ If it be a thing of so little Value, why do you so
earnestly recommend it to your Wives and Daughters?
_Const._ We recommend it to our Wives, Madam, because we wou'd keep 'em
to ourselves; and to our Daughters, because we wou'd dispose of 'em to
others.
_Lady Brute._ 'Tis then, of some Importance, it seems, since you can't
dispose of them without it.
_Const._ That Importance, Madam, lies in the Humour of the Country, not
in the Nature of the Thing.
_Lady Brute._ How do you prove that, Sir?
_Const._ From the Wisdom of a neighbouring Nation in a contrary
Practice. In Monarchies, things go by Whimsy; but Commonwealths weigh
all things in the Scale of Reason.
_Lady Brute._ I hope we are not so very light a People, to bring up
Fashions without some ground.
_Const._ Pray what does your Ladyship think of a powder'd Coat for deep
Mourning?
_Lady Brute._ I think, Sir, your Sophistry has all the effect that you
can reasonably expect it should have; it puzzles, but don't convince.
_Const._ I'm sorry for it.
_Lady Brute._ I'm sorry to hear you say so.
_Const._ Pray why?
_Lady Brute._ Because, if you expected more from it, you have a worse
Opinion of my Understanding than I desire you should have.
_Const._ [_Aside._] I comprehend her: She would have me set a Value
upon her Chastity, that I might think myself the more oblig'd to her
when she makes me a Present of it. [_To her._] I beg you will believe I
did but rally, Madam; I know you judge too well of Right and Wrong, to
be deceiv'd by Arguments like those. I hope you'll have so favourable
an Opinion of my Understanding too, to believe the thing call'd Virtue
has Worth enough with me, to pass for an eternal Obligation where'er
'tis sacrific'd.
_Lady Brute._ It is, I think, so great a one as nothing can repay.
_Const._ Yes; the making the Man you love your everlasting Debtor.
_Lady Brute._ When Debtors once have borrow'd all we have to lend, they
are very apt to grow shy of their Creditors' Company.
_Const._ That, Madam, is only when they are forc'd to borrow of
Usurers, and not of a generous Friend. Let us choose our Creditors, and
we are seldom so ungrateful to shun 'em.
_Lady Brute._ What think you of Sir _John_, Sir? I was his free Choice.
_Const._ I think he's married, Madam.
_Lady Brute._ Does Marriage, then, exclude Men from your Rule of
Constancy?
_Const._ It does. Constancy's a brave, free, haughty, generous Agent,
that cannot buckle to the Chains of Wedlock. There's a poor sordid
Slavery in Marriage, that turns the flowing Tide of Honour, and sinks
us to the lowest Ebb of Infamy. 'Tis a corrupted Soil: Ill-Nature,
Avarice, Sloth, Cowardice, and Dirt, are all its Product.
_Lady Brute._ Have you no Exceptions to this general Rule, as well as
to t'other?
_Const._ Yes; I would, after all, be an Exception to it myself, if you
were free in Power and Will to make me so.
_Lady Brute._ Compliments are well plac'd where 'tis impossible to lay
hold on 'em.
_Const._ I wou'd to Heaven 'twere possible for you to lay hold on mine,
that you might see it is no Compliment at all. But since you are
already dispos'd of, beyond Redemption, to one who does not know the
Value of the Jewel you have put into his Hands, I hope you wou'd not
think him greatly wrong'd, tho' it should sometimes be look'd on by a
Friend, who knows how to esteem it as he ought.
_Lady Brute._ If looking on't alone wou'd serve his turn, the Wrong,
perhaps, might not be very great.
_Const._ Why, what if he shou'd wear it now and then a Day, so he gave
good Security to bring it home again at Night?
_Lady Brute._ Small Security, I fancy, might serve for that. One might
venture to take his Word.
_Const._ Then, where's the Injury to the Owner?
_Lady Brute._ 'Tis an Injury to him, if he think it one. For if
Happiness be seated in the Mind, Unhappiness must be so too.
_Const._ Here I close with you, Madam, and draw my conclusive Argument
from your own Position: If the Injury lie in the Fancy, there needs
nothing but Secrecy to prevent the Wrong.
_Lady Brute._ [_Going._] A surer way to prevent it, is to hear no more
Arguments in its behalf.
_Const._ [_Following her._] But, Madam----
_Lady Brute._ But, Sir, 'tis my turn to be discreet now, and not suffer
too long a Visit.
_Const._ [_Catching her Hand._] By Heaven, you shall not stir, till you
give me hopes that I shall see you again at some more convenient Time
and Place!
_Lady Brute._ I give you just hopes enough----[_Breaking from him._] to
get loose from you: and that's all I can afford you at this time.
[_Exit running._
_~Constant~ solus._
Now, by all that's great and good, she is a charming Woman! In what
Extasy of Joy she has left me! For she gave me Hope, did she not say
she gave me Hope?--Hope! Ay: what Hope? Enough to make me let her
go--Why, that's enough in Conscience. Or, no matter how 'twas spoke:
Hope was the Word: it came from her, and it was said to me.
_Enter ~Heartfree~._
Ha, _Heartfree_! Thou hast done me noble Service in prattling to the
young Gentlewoman without there; come to my Arms, thou venerable Bawd,
and let me squeeze thee [_Embracing him eagerly._] as a new Pair of
Stays does a fat Country Girl, when she's carried to Court to stand for
a Maid of Honour.
_Heart._ Why, what the Devil's all this Rapture for?
_Const._ Rapture! There's ground for Rapture, Man; there's Hopes, my
_Heartfree_, Hopes, my Friend!
_Heart._ Hopes! of what?
_Const._ Why, Hopes that my Lady and I together (for 'tis more than one
Body's Work) should make Sir _John_ a Cuckold.
_Heart._ Pr'ythee, what did she say to thee?
_Const._ Say? What did she not say? She said that----says she--she
said--Zoons, I don't know what she said; but she look'd as if she said
every thing I'd have her. And so, if thou'lt go to the Tavern, I'll
treat thee with any thing that Gold can buy; I'll give all my Silver
amongst the Drawers, make a Bonfire before the Door; say the Plenipo's
have sign'd the Peace, and the Bank of _England_'s grown honest.
[_Exeunt._
+SCENE+ _opens; Lord ~Rake~, Sir ~John~, &c. at a Table, drinking._
_All._ Huzza!
_Lord Rake._ Come, Boys, charge again----So--Confusion to all Order!
Here's Liberty of Conscience.
_All._ Huzza!
_Lord Rake._ I'll sing you a Song I made this Morning to this purpose.
_Sir John._ 'Tis wicked, I hope.
_Col. Bully._ Don't my Lord tell you he made it?
_Sir John._ Well, then, let's ha't.
Lord _Rake_ Sings.
I.
_What a Pother of late
Have they kept in the State,
About setting our Consciences free!
A Bottle has more
Dispensations in store,
Than the King and the State can decree._
II.
_When my Head's full of Wine,
I o'erflow with Design,
And know no ~Penal-Laws~ that can curb me:
Whate'er I devise
Seems good in my Eyes,
And Religion ne'er dares to disturb me._
III.
_No saucy Remorse
Intrudes in my Course,
Nor impertinent Notions of Evil;
So there's Claret in store,
In Peace I've my Whore,
And in Peace I jog on to the Devil._
All sing. _So there's Claret_, &c.
_Lord Rake._ [Rep.] _And in Peace I jog on to the Devil._ Well, how do
you like it, Gentlemen?
_All._ O, admirable!
_Sir John._ I would not give a Fig for a Song that is not full of Sin
and Impudence.
_Lord Rake._ Then my Muse is to your Taste. But drink away; the Night
steals upon us; we shall want Time to be lewd in. Hey, Page! Sally out,
Sirrah, and see what's doing in the Camp; we'll beat up their Quarters
presently.
_Page._ I'll bring your Lordship an exact Account.
[_Exit Page._
_Lord Rake._. Now let the Spirit of Clary go round. Fill me a Brimmer
Here's to our Forlorn Hope. Courage, Knight, Victory attends you.
_Sir John._ And Laurels shall crown me; drink away, and be damn'd.
_Lord Rake._ Again, Boys; t'other Glass, and damn Morality.
_Sir John._ [_Drunk._] Ay--damn Morality--and damn the Watch. And let
the Constable be married.
_All._ Huzza!
_Re-enter Page._
_Lord Rake._ How are the Streets inhabited, Sirrah?
_Page._ My Lord, 'tis Sunday-night; they are full of drunken Citizens.
_Lord Rake._ Along, then, Boys, we shall have a Feast.
_Col. Bully._ Along, noble Knight.
_Sir John._ Ay----along, _Bully_; and he that says Sir _John Brute_ is
not as drunk and as religious as the drunkenest Citizen of them all--is
a Liar, and the Son of a Whore.