Act 5 — 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; ’.will 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.