LORY. [_Aside_.] ’Fore heavens, I applaud my master’s modesty! [_Exit with_ TOM FASHION.] _Enter_ SERVANTS, _with_ LORD FOPPINGTON _disarmed_. SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. Come, bring him along, bring him along. LORD FOPPINGTON. What the plague do you mean, gentlemen? is it fair time, that you are all drunk before supper? SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. Drunk, sirrah! here’s an impudent rogue for you now. Drunk or sober, bully, I’m a justice o’ the peace, and know how to deal with strollers. LORD FOPPINGTON. Strollers! SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. Ay, strollers. Come, give an account of yourself. What’s your name? where do you live? do you pay scot and lot? Come, are you a freeholder or a copyholder? LORD FOPPINGTON. And why dost thou ask me so many impertinent questions? SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. Because I’ll make you answer ’em, before I have done with you, you rascal, you! LORD FOPPINGTON. Before Gad, all the answer I can make to them is, that you are a very extraordinary old fellow, stap my vitals. SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. Nay, if thou art joking deputy-lieutenants, we know how to deal with you.—Here, draw a warrant for him immediately. LORD FOPPINGTON. A warrant! What the devil is’t thou wouldst be at, old gentleman? SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. I would be at you, sirrah, (if my hands were not tied as a magistrate,) and with these two double fists beat your teeth down your throat, you dog, you! [_Driving him_.] LORD FOPPINGTON. And why wouldst thou spoil my face at that rate? SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. For your design to rob me of my daughter, villain. LORD FOPPINGTON. Rob thee of thy daughter! Now do I begin to believe I am in bed and asleep, and that all this is but a dream. Pr’ythee, old father, wilt thou give me leave to ask thee one question? SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. I can’t tell whether I will or not, till I know what it is. LORD FOPPINGTON. Why, then, it is, whether thou didst not write to my Lord Foppington, to come down and marry thy daughter? SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. Yes, marry, did I, and my Lord Foppington is come down, and shall marry my daughter before she’s a day older. LORD FOPPINGTON. Now give me thy hand, old dad; I thought we should understand one another at last. SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. The fellow’s mad!—Here, bind him hand and foot. [_They bind him._] LORD FOPPINGTON. Nay, pr’ythee, knight, leave fooling; thy jest begins to grow dull. SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. Bind him, I say—he’s mad: bread and water, a dark room, and a whip, may bring him to his senses again. LORD FOPPINGTON. Pr’ythee, Sir Tunbelly, why should you take such an aversion to the freedom of my address as to suffer the rascals thus to skewer down my arms like a rabbit?—[_Aside._] Egad, if I don’t awake, by all that I can see, this is like to prove one of the most impertinent dreams that ever I dreamt in my life. _Re-enter_ MISS HOYDEN _and_ NURSE.