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_Colonel S._ I'm a.s.sured, sir, she never gave you any encouragement.
_Sir H._ A man can never hear reason with his sword in his hand. Sheath your weapon; and then, if I don't satisfy you, sheath it in my body.
_Colonel S._ Give me but demonstration of her granting you any favour, and it is enough.
_Sir H._ Will you take my word?
_Colonel S._ Pardon me, sir, I cannot.
_Sir H._ Will you believe your own eyes?
_Colonel S._ 'Tis ten to one whether I shall or no; they have deceived me already.
_Sir H._ That's hard--but some means I shall devise for your satisfaction--[_Noise._]--We must fly this place, else that cl.u.s.ter of mob will overwhelm us. [_Exeunt._
_Enter_ MOB, TOM ERRAND'S _Wife hurrying in_ CLINCHER SENIOR _in_ ERRAND'S _Clothes_.
_Wife._ Oh! the villain, the rogue, he has murdered my husband. Ah, my poor Timothy! [_Crying._
_Clinch. sen._ Dem your Timothy!--your husband has murdered me, woman; for he has carried away my fine Jubilee clothes.
_Mob._ Away with him----away with him to the Thames.
_Clinch. sen._ Oh, if I had but my swimming girdle now!
_Enter_ CONSTABLE.
_Const._ Hold, neighbours, I command the peace.
_Wife._ Oh, Mr. Constable, here's a rogue that has murdered my husband, and robbed him of his clothes.
_Const._ Murder and robbery!--Then he must be a gentleman.----Hands off there; he must not be abused.----Give an account of yourself. Are you a gentleman?
_Clinch. sen._ No, sir, I'm a beau.
_Const._ A beau--Then you have killed n.o.body, I'm persuaded. How came you by these clothes, sir?
_Clinch. sen._ You must know, sir, that walking along, sir, I don't know how, sir, I can't tell where, sir,--and so the porter and I changed clothes, sir.
_Const._ Very well. The man speaks reason, and like a gentleman.
_Wife._ But pray, Mr. Constable, ask him how he changed clothes with him.
_Const._ Silence, woman, and don't disturb the court. Well, sir, how did you change clothes?
_Clinch. sen._ Why, sir, he pulled off my coat, and I drew off his: so I put on his coat, and he put on mine.
_Const._ Why, neighbour, I don't find that he's guilty: search him--and if he carries no arms about him, we'll let him go.
[_They search his Pockets, and pull out his Pistols._
_Clinch. sen._ Oh, gemini! My Jubilee pistols!
_Const._ What, a case of pistols! Then the case is plain. Speak, what are you, sir? Whence came you, and whither go you?
_Clinch. sen._ Sir, I came from Russel Street, and am going to the Jubilee.
_Wife._ You shall go the gallows, you rogue.
_Const._ Away with him, away with him to Newgate, straight.
_Clinch. sen._ I shall go to the Jubilee now, indeed.
_Enter_ SIR. H. WILDAIR _and_ COLONEL STANDARD.
_Sir H._ In short, colonel, 'tis all nonsense--fight for a woman! Hard by is the lady's house, if you please, we'll wait on her together: you shall draw your sword--I'll draw my snuff-box: you shall produce your wounds received in war--I'll relate mine by Cupid's dart: you shall swear--I'll sigh: you shall sa, sa, and I'll coupee; and if she flies not to my arms, like a hawk to its perch, my dancing-master deserves to be d.a.m.ned.
_Colonel S._ With the generality of women, I grant you, these arts may prevail.
_Sir H._ Generality of women! Why there again, you're out. They're all alike, sir: I never heard of any one that was particular, but one.
_Colonel S._ Who was she, pray?
_Sir H._ Penelope, I think she's called, and that's a poetical story too. When will you find a poet in our age make a woman so chaste?
_Colonel S._ Well, Sir Harry, your facetious humour can disguise falsehood, and make calumny pa.s.s for satire; but you have promised me ocular demonstration that she favours you: make that good, and I shall then maintain faith and female to be as inconsistent as truth and falsehood.
_Sir H._ But will you be convinced, if our plot succeeds.
_Colonel S._ I rely on your word and honour, Sir Harry.
_Sir H._ Then meet me half an hour hence at the Shakspeare; you must oblige me by taking a hearty gla.s.s with me toward the fitting me out for a certain project, which this night I undertake.
_Colonel S._ I guess, by the preparation, that woman's the design.
_Sir H._ Yes, 'faith.--I am taken dangerously ill with two foolish maladies, modesty and love: the first I'll cure with Burgundy, and my love by a night's lodging with the damsel. A sure remedy. _Probatum est._
_Colonel S._ I'll certainly meet you, sir. [_Exeunt severally._
_Enter_ CLINCHER JUNIOR _and_ d.i.c.kY.
_Clinch. jun._ Ah, d.i.c.k, this London is a sad place, a sad vicious place: I wish that I were in the country again. And this brother of mine--I'm sorry he's so great a rake: I had rather see him dead than see him thus.
_d.i.c.ky._ Ay, sir, he'll spend his whole estate at this same Jubilee. Who d'ye think lives at this same Jubilee?
_Clinch. jun._ Who, pray?
_d.i.c.ky._ The Pope.
