But come, won't you refresh you, Sir Luke--you have had hard duty to day. Sir LUKE. I drank very freely at table. SERJEANT. Nay, for the matter of that, I ha'n't been idle; [_both drink_.] But come, throw off your gown, and let us finish the bottle: I ha'n't had such a mind to be merry I can't tell the day when. Sir LUKE. Nay then, Mr. Serjeant, have at you--come, here's long life and health to the law. [_Drinks._] SERJEANT. I'll pledge that toast in a bumper.--[_Drinks._]--I'll take Charlot's hint, and see if I can't draw the truth out of the Knight by a bottle. [_Aside._] Sir LUKE. I'll try if I can't fuddle the fool, and get rid of him that way. [_Aside._] SERJEANT. I could not have thought it: why where the deuce did you pick up all this? But by the bye, pray who was the cryer? Sir LUKE. Did not you know her? Mrs. Simper, your neighbour. SERJEANT. A pestilent jade! she's a good one I warrant. Sir LUKE. She is thought very pretty; what say you to a glass in her favor? SERJEANT. By all means in the world! [_they drink_] and that spark the clerk? Sir LUKE. Colonel Secret, a friend to the lady you toasted. SERJEANT. A friend! oh, ay--I understand you--come, let us join 'em together. Sir LUKE. Alons. [_drink._] Egad, I shall be caught in my own trap, I begin to feel myself fluster'd already. [_Aside._] SERJEANT. Delicate white wine, indeed! I like it better every glass. [_Sings._] Drink and drive care away, Drink and be merry. Sir LUKE. True, my dear Serjeant--this is the searcher of secrets--the only key to the heart. SERJEANT. Right boy, in veritas vino. Sir LUKE. No deceit in a bumper. [_Sings._] Drink and be merry. SERJEANT. Merry! dammee, what a sweet fellow you are; what would I give, to be half so jolly and gay. Sir LUKE. [_Appearing very drunk._] Would you? and yet do you know, Serjeant, that at this very juncture of time, there is a thing has popp'd into my head, that distresses me very much. SERJEANT. Then drive it out with a bumper [_Drink._] Well, how is it now. Sir LUKE. Now!--the matter is not mended at all. SERJEANT. What the deuce is the business that so sticks in your stomach. Sir LUKE. You know, my dear Serjeant, I am your friend, your real, your affectionate friend. SERJEANT. I believe, it Sir Luke. Sir LUKE. And yet, for these six months, I have conceal'd a secret, that touches you near, very near-- SERJEANT. Me near! That was wrong, very wrong; friends should have all things in common. Sir LUKE. That's what I said to myself; Sir Luke, says I, open your heart to your friend; but to tell you the truth, what sealed up my lips, was the fear that this secret should make you sulky and sad. SERJEANT. Me sulky and sad! ha! ha! how little you know of me. Sir LUKE. Swear then that you won't be uneasy. SERJEANT. Well, I do. Sir LUKE. [_Rising._] Soft! let us see that all's safe;--well, Mr. Serjeant, do you know that you are--a fine, honest fellow? SERJEANT.