Hub. Thus have I stoln away disguiz’d from Hemskirk
To try these people, for my heart yet tells me
Some of these Beggars, are the men I look for: 
Appearing like my self, they have no reason
(Though my intent is fair, my main end honest)
But to avoid me narrowly, that face too,
That womans face, how near it is!  O may it
But prove the same, and fortune how I’le bless thee! 
Thus, sure they cannot know me, or suspect me,
If to my habit I but change my nature;
As I must do; this is the wood they live in,
A place fit for concealment:  where, till fortune
Crown me with that I seek, I’le live amongst ’em. [Exit.

Enter Higgen, Prigg, Ferret, Ginks, and the rest of the Boors.

Hig. Come bring ’em out, for here we sit in justice:  Give to each one a cudgel, a good cudgel:  And now attend your sentence.  That you are rogues, And mischievous base rascalls, (there’s the point now) I take it, is confess’d.

Prig. Deny it if you dare knaves.

Boors. We are Rogues Sir.

Hig. To amplify the matter then, rogues as ye are, And lamb’d ye shall be e’re we leave ye.

Boors. Yes Sir.

Hig. And to the open handling of our justice, Why did ye this upon the proper person Of our good Master? were you drunk when you did it?

Boors. Yes indeed were we.

Prig. You shall be beaten sober.

Hig. Was it for want you undertook it?

Boors. Yes Sir.

Hig. You shall be swing’d abundantly.

Prig. And yet for all that, You shall be poor rogues still.

Hig. Has not the Gentleman,
Pray mark this point Brother Prig, that noble Gentleman
Reliev’d ye often, found ye means to live by,
By imploying some at Sea, some here, some there;
According to your callings?

Boors. ’Tis most true Sir.

Hig. Is not the man, an honest man?

Boors. Yes truly.

Hig. A liberal Gentleman? and as ye are true rascals Tell me but this, have ye not been drunk, and often, At his charge?

Boors. Often, often.

Hig. There’s the point then, They have cast themselves, Brother Prig.

Prig. A shrewd point, Brother.

Hig. Brother, proceed you now; the cause is open, I am some what weary.

Prig. Can you do these things?  You most abhominable stinking Rascals, You turnip-eating Rogues.

Boors. We are truly sorry.

Prig. Knock at your hard hearts Rogues, and presently
Give us a sign you feel compunction,
Every man up with’s cudgel, and on his neighbour
Bestow such alms, ’till we shall say sufficient,
For there your sentence lyes without partiality;
Either of head, or hide Rogues, without sparing,
Or we shall take the pains to beat you dead else: 
You shall know your doom.