_Dres_. That’s well--The sanctify’d Jilt professes Innocence, yet has the Badge of her Occupation about her Neck. [_Pulls off the Coat_. _Sen_. Ah, Misfortune, I have mistook his Worship’s Coat for my Gown. [_A little Book drops out of her Bosom_. _Dres_. What have we here? A Sermon preacht by Richard Baxter, Divine. Gad a mercy, Sweetheart, thou art a hopeful Member of the true Protestant Cause. _Sen_. Alack, how the Saints may be scandaliz’d! I went but to tuck his Worship up. _Dres_. And comment upon the Text a little, which I suppose may be, increase and multiply--Here, gag, and bind her. [_Exit_ Dres. _Sen_. Hold, hold, I am with Child! _Lab_. Then you’ll go near to miscarry of a Babe of Grace. _Enter_ Wild. Fop. _and others, leading in Sir_ Timothy _in his Night-gown and Night-Gap_. Sir _Tim_. Gentlemen, why, Gentlemen, I beseech you use a Conscience in what you do, and have a feeling in what you go about--Pity my Age. _Wild_. Damn’d beggarly Conscience, and needless Pity-- Sir _Tim_. Oh, fearful--But, Gentlemen, what is’t you design? is it a general Massacre, pray? or am I the only Person aim’d at as a Sacrifice for the Nation? I know, and all the World knows, how many Plots have been laid against my self, both by Men, Women, and Children, the diabolical Emissaries of the Pope. _Wild_. How, Sirrah! [_Fiercely, he starts_. Sir _Tim_. Nay, Gentlemen, not but I love and honour his Holiness with all my Soul; and if his Grace did but know what I’ve done for him, d’ye see-- _Fop_. You done for the Pope, Sirrah! Why, what have you done for the Pope? Sir _Tim_. Why, Sir, an’t like ye, I have done you very great Service, very great Service; for I have been, d’ye see, in a small Tryal I had, the cause and occasion of invalidating the Evidence to that degree, that I suppose no Jury in Christendom will ever have the Impudence to believe ’.m hereafter, shou’d they swear against his Holiness and all the Conclave of Cardinals. _Wild_. And yet you plot on still, cabal, treat, and keep open Debauch, for all the Renegado-Tories and old Commonwealthsmen to carry on the good Cause. Sir _Tim_. Alas, what signifies that! You know, Gentlemen, that I have such a strange and natural Agility in turning--I shall whip about yet, and leave ‘em all in the Lurch. _Wild_. ‘Tis very likely; but at this time we shall not take your Word for that. Sir _Tim_. Bloody-minded Men, are you resolv’d to assassinate me then? _Wild_. You trifle, Sir, and know our Business better, than to think we come to take your Life, which wou’d not advantage a Dog, much less any Party or Person--Come, come, your Keys, your Keys. _Fop_. Ay, ay, discover, discover your Money, Sir, your ready--