Mop.  You understand me—­and so adieu, sweet Glisterpipe, and Seignior
Dirty-Boots, Ha, ha, ha.
                            [Runs out.

[They stand looking simply on each other, without speaking a while.

Scar.  That I shou’d not know that Rogue Harlequin. [Aside.

Har.  That I shou’d take this Fool for a Physician. [Aside.  —­How long have you commenc’d Apothecary, Seignior?

Scar.  Ever since you turn’d Farmer.—­Are not you a damn’d Rogue to put these Tricks upon me, and most dishonourably break all Articles between us?

Har.  And are not you a dam’d Son of a—­something—­to break Articles with me?

Scar.  No more Words, Sir, no more Words, I find it must come to Actions, draw. [Draws.

Har.  Draw!—­so I can draw, Sir. [Draws.

[They make a ridiculous cowardly Fight.  Enter the Doctor,
which they seeing, come on with more Courage.  He runs between,
and with his Cane beats the Swords down.

Doct.  Hold, hold, what mean you, Gentlemen?

Scar.  Let me go, Sir, I am provok’d beyond measure, Sir.

Doct.  You must excuse me, Seignior.
                                         [Parlies with Harlequin.

Scar.  I dare not discover the Fool for his Master’s sake, and it may spoil our Intrigue anon; besides, he’ll then discover me, and I shall be discarded for bantering the Doctor. [Aside.  —­Man of Honour to be so basely affronted here.

[The Doctor comes to appease Scaramouch.

Har.  Shou’d I discover this Rascal, he wou’d tell the old Gentleman I was the same that attempted his House to day in Woman’s Clothes, and I should be kick’d and beaten most insatiably.

Scar.  What, Seignior, for a Man of Parts to be impos’d upon, and whip’d through the Lungs here—­like a Mountebank’s Zany for sham Cures —­Mr. Doctor, I must tell you ’tis not civil.

Doct.  I am extremely sorry for it, Sir,—­and you shall see how I will have this fellow handled for the Affront to a Person of your Gravity, and in my House.—­Here, Pedro.

Enter Pedro.

—­Take this Intruder, or bring some of your Fellows hither, and toss him in a Blanket.

[Exit Pedro.

[Har. going to creep away, Scar, holds him.

Har.  Hark ye, bring me off, or I’ll discover all your Intrigue.
          
                                             [Aside to him.

Scar.  Let me alone.

Doct.  I’ll warrant you some Rogue that has some Plot on my Niece and Daughter.

Scar.  No, no, Sir, he comes to impose the grossest Lye upon you, that ever was heard of.

Enter Pedro with others, with a Blanket.  They put Harlequin
into it, and toss him.