The Works of Aphra Behn
Chapter 212 : _Fop_. And who shall bind the last Man?_Wild_. Honest Laboir, d'ye hear, Sirrah?

_Fop_. And who shall bind the last Man?

_Wild_. Honest Laboir, d'ye hear, Sirrah? you get drunk and lay in your Clothes under the Hall-Table; d'ye hear me? Look to't, ye Rascal, and carry things discreetly, or you'll be hang'd, that's certain.

[_Ex_. Wild, _and_ Dres.

_Fop_. So, now will I i'th' Morning to _Charlot_, and give her such a Character of her Love, as if she have Resentment, makes her mine.

[_Exit_ Fop.

Sir _Tim_. [_calls within_.] Ho, Jenkins, Roger, Simon! Where are these Rogues? none left alive to come to my a.s.sistance? So ho, ho, ho, ho!

Rascals, Sluggards, Drones! so ho, ho, ho!

_Lab_. So, now's my Cue--and stay, I am not yet sober.

[_Puts himself into a drunken Posture_.

Sir _Tim_. Dogs, Rogues, none hear me? Fire, fire, fire!

_Lab_. Water, water, I say; for I am d.a.m.nable dry.

Sir _Tim_. Hah, who's there?

_Lab_. What doleful Voice is that?

Sir _Tim_. What art thou, Friend or Foe? [_In a doleful Tone_.

_Lab_. Very direful--why, what the Devil art thou?

Sir _Tim_. If thou'rt a Friend, approach, approach the wretched.

_Lab_. Wretched! What art thou, Ghost, Hobgoblin, or walking Spirit?

[_Reeling in with a Lanthorn in's Hand_.

Sir _Tim_. Oh, neither, neither, but mere Mortal, Sir _Timothy Treat-all_, robb'd and bound.

[_Coming out led by_ Laboir.

_Lab_. How, our generous Host!

Sir _Tim_. How, one of my Lord's Servants! Alas, alas, how cam'st thou to escape?

_Lab_. E'en by miracle, Sir; by being drunk, and falling asleep under the Hall-Table with your Wors.h.i.+p's Dog Tory, till just now a Dream of Small-beer wak'd me: and crawling from my Kennel to secure the black Jack, I stumbled upon this Lanthorn, which I took for one, till I found a Candle in't, which helps me to serve your Wors.h.i.+p.

[_Goes to unbind his Hands_.

Sir _Tim_. Hold, hold, I say; for I scorn to be so uncivil to be unbound before his Lords.h.i.+p: therefore run, Friend, to his Honour's Chamber, for he, alas, is confined too.

_Lab_. What, and leave his worthy Friend in distress? by no means, Sir.

Sir _Tim_. Well then, come, let's to my Lord, whom if I be not asham'd to look in the Face, I am an errant Sarazen.

[_Exit Sir_ Tim. _and_ Lab.

SCENE II. _Changes to_ Wilding's _Chamber_.

_He is discovered sitting in a Chair bound, his Valet bound by him; to them Sir_ Timothy _and_ Laboir.

_Wild_. Peace, Sirrah, for sure I hear some coming--Villains, Rogues! I care not for my self, but for the good pious Alderman.

[_Sir_ Tim. _as listening_.

Sir _Tim_. Wonderful Goodness, for me! Alas, my Lord, this sight will break my Heart.

[_Weeps_.

_Wild_. Sir _Timothy_ safe! nay, then I do forgive 'em.

Sir _Tim_. Alas, my Lord, I've heard of your rigid Fate.

_Wild_. It is my Custom, Sir, to pray an Hour or two in my Chamber, before I go to Bed; and having pray'd that drousy Slave asleep, the Thieves broke in upon us unawares, I having laid my Sword aside.

Sir _Tim_. Oh, Heavens, at his Prayers! d.a.m.n'd Ruffians, and wou'd they not stay till you had said your Prayers?

_Wild_. By no Persuasion--Can you not guess who they shou'd be, Sir?

Sir _Tim_. Oh, some d.a.m.n'd Tory-rory Rogues, you may be sure, to rob a Man at his Prayers! why, what will this World come to?

_Wild_. Let us not talk, Sir, but pursue 'em.

[_Offering to go_.

Sir _Tim_. Pursue 'em! alas, they're past our reach by this time.

_Wild_. Oh, Sir, they are nearer than you imagine: some that know each Corner of your House, I'll warrant.

Sir _Tim_. Think ye so, my Lord? ay, this comes of keeping open House; which makes so many shut up their Doors at Dinner-time.

_Enter_ Dresswell.

_Dres_. Good Morrow, Gentlemen! what, was the Devil broke loose to night?

Sir _Tim_. Only some of his Imps, Sir, saucy Varlets, insupportable Rascals--But well, my Lord, now I have seen your Lords.h.i.+p at liberty, I'll leave you to your rest, and go see what Harm this night's Work has done.

_Wild_. I have a little Business, Sir, and will take this time to dispatch it in; my Servants shall to Bed, though 'tis already day--I'll wait on you at Dinner.

Sir _Tim_. Your time; my House and all I have is yours; and so I take my Leave of your Lords.h.i.+p.

[_Ex. Sir_ Tim.

_Wild_. Now for my angry Maid, the young _Charlot_; 'Twill be a Task to soften her to Peace; She is all new and gay, young as the Morn, Blus.h.i.+ng as tender Rose-Buds on their Stalks, Pregnant with Sweets, for the next Sun to ravish.

--Come, thou shalt along with me, I'll trust thy Friends.h.i.+p.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE III. _Changes to_ Diana's _Chamber_.