Sir _Tim_. Money, Sir, good lack, is that all? [_Smiling on ‘em_.] Why, what a Beast was I, not knowing of your coming, to put out all my Money last Week to Alderman Draw-tooth? Alack, alack, what shift shall I make now to accommodate you?--But if you please to come again to morrow-- _Fop_. A shamming Rogue; the right Sneer and Grin of a dissembling Whig. Come, come, deliver, Sir; we are for no Rhetorick but ready Money. [_Aloud and threatning_. Sir _Tim_. Hold, I beseech you, Gentlemen, not so loud; for there is a Lord, a most considerable Person, and a Stranger, honours my House to night; I wou’d not for the world his Lordship shou’d be disturb’d. _Wild_. Take no care for him, he’s fast bound and all his Retinue. Sir _Tim_. How, bound! my Lord bound, and all his People! Undone, undone, disgrac’d! What will the Polanders say, that I shou’d expose their Embassador to this Disrespect and Affront? _Wild_. Bind him, and take away his Keys. [_They bind him hand and foot, and take his Keys out of his Bosom. Ex. all_. Sir _Tim_. Ay, ay, what you please, Gentlemen, since my Lord’s bound--Oh, what Recompence can I make for so unhospitable Usage? I am a most unfortunate Magistrate: hah, who’s there, _Jervice_? Alas, art thou here too? What, canst not speak? but ‘tis no matter and I were dumb too; for what Speech or Harangue will serve to beg my Pardon of my Lord?--And then my Heiress, _Jervice_, ay, my rich Heiress, why, she’ll be ravisht: Oh Heavens, ravisht! The young Rogues will have no Mercy, _Jervice_; nay, perhaps as thou say’st, they’ll carry her away.--Oh, that thought! Gad, I rather the City-Charter were lost. [_Enter some with Bags of Money_. --Why, Gentlemen, rob like Christians, Gentlemen. _Fop_. What, do you mutter, Dog? Sir _Tim_. Not in the least, Sir, not in the least; only a Conscience, Sir, in all things does well--Barbarous Rogues. [_They go out all again_.] Here’s your arbitrary Power, _Jervice_; here’s the Rule of the Sword now for you: These are your Tory Rogues, your tantivy Roysters; but we shall cry quits with you, Rascals, ere long; and if we do come to our old Trade of Plunder and Sequestration, we shall so handle ye--we’ll spare neither Prince, Peer, nor Prelate. Oh, I long to have a slice at your fat Church-men, your Crape-Gownorums. _Enter_ Wild. Dresswell, Laboir, _and the rest, with more Bags_. _Wild_. A Prize, a Prize, my Lads, in ready Guineas; Contribution, my beloved. _Dres_. Nay, then ‘tis lawful Prize, in spite of Ignoramus and all his Tribe--What hast thou here? [_To_ Fop. _who enters with a Bag full of Papers_. _Fop_. A whole Bag of Knavery, damn’d Sedition, Libels, Treason, Successions, Rights and Privileges, with a new-fashion’d Oath of Abjuration, call’d the Association.--Ah, Rogue, what will you say when these shall be made publick?