[_Runs out with_ Peter. Scaramouch _puts out the Candle, they come out of the Hanging, which is drawn away. He places ‘em in a Row just at the Entrance_. _Scar_. Here, here, fear nothing, hold by each other, that when I go out, all may go; that is, slip out, when you hear the Doctor is come in again, which he will certainly do, and all depart to your respective Lodgings. _Cin_. And leave thee to bear the Brunt? _Scar_. Take you no care for that, I’ll put it into my Bill of Charges, and be paid all together. _Enter the_ Doctor _with Pistols, and_ Peter. _Doct_. What, by dark? that shall not save you, Villains, Traitors to my Glory and Repose.--_Peter_, hold fast the Door, let none ‘scape. [_They all slip out_. _Pet_. I’ll warrant you, Sir. [Doctor _gropes about, stamps and calls_. _Doct_. Lights there--Lights--I’m sure they cou’d not ‘scape. _Pet_. Impossible, Sir. _Enter_ Scaramouch _undress’d in his Shirt, with a Light; he starts_. _Scar_. Bless me!--what’s here? _Doct_. Ha--Who art thou? [_Amaz’d to see him enter so_. _Scar_. I, who the Devil are you, and you go to that? [_Rubs his Eyes, and brings the Candle nearer, looks on him_. --Mercy upon us!--Why, what, is’t you, Sir, return’d so soon? _Doct_. Return’d! [_Looking sometimes on him, sometimes about_. _Scar_. Ay, Sir, did you not go out of Town last night, to your Brother the Advocate? _Doct_. Thou Villain, thou question’st me, as if thou knew’st not that I was return’d. _Scar_. I know, Sir! how shou’d I know? I’m sure I am but just awakened from the sweetest Dream.-- _Doct_. You dream still, Sirrah, but I shall wake your Rogueship.--Were you not here but now, shewing me a piece of Tapestry, you Villain? _Scar_. Tapestry! [Mopsophil _listning all the while_. _Doct_. Yes, Rogue, yes, for which I’ll have thy Life. [_Offering a Pistol_. _Scar_. Are you stark mad, Sir? or do I dream still? _Doct_. Tell me, and tell me quickly, Rogue, who were those Traitors that were hid but now in the Disguise of a piece of Hangings. [_Holds the Pistol to his Breast_. _Scar_. Bless me! you amaze me, Sir. What conformity has every Word you say, to my rare Dream! Pray let me feel you, Sir,--Are you human? _Doct_. You shall feel I am, Sirrah, if thou confess not.