k ye. {192}

_Foi_. Come, my dear joy; I vill secure your body and
your shoul too; I vill make you a good catholic,
and give you an absolution.

_Gib_. Absolution! can you procure me a pardon, doctor?

_Foi_. No, joy--

_Gib_. Then you and your absolution may to the devil!
{199}
_Arch_. Convey him into the cellar, there bind him:--
take the pistol, and if he offers to resist, shoot him
through the head--and come back to us with all
the speed you can.

_Scrub_. Ay, ay, come, doctor, do you hold him fast, and
I 'll guard him.

[_Exit Foigard with Gibbet, Scrub following_.

_Mrs. Sul_. But how came the doctor--

_Arch_. In short, madam--[_Shrieking without_.] 'Sdeath!
the rogues are at work with the other ladies--I 'm
vexed I parted with the pistol; but I must fly to
their assistance.--Will you stay here, madam, or
venture yourself with me? {211}

_Mrs. Sul_. [_Taking him by the arm_.] Oh, with you, dear
sir, with you. [_Exeunt_.

ACT V., SCENE III.

_Another Bedchamber in the same.
Enter Hounslow and Bagshot, with swords drawn,
haling in Lady Bountiful and Dorinda_.

_Houn_. Come, come, your jewels, mistress!

_Bag_. Your keys, your keys, old gentlewoman!

_Enter Aimwell and Cherry_.

_Aim_. Turn this way, villains! I durst engage an army
in such a cause. [_He engages them both_.

_Dor_. O madam, had I but a sword to help the brave
man!

_Lady Boun_. There's three or four hanging up in the
hall; but they won't draw. I 'll go fetch one, however. [_Exit_.

_Enter Archer and Mrs. Sullen_.

_Arch_. Hold, hold, my lord! every man his bird, pray.
[_They engage man to man; Hounslow and
Bagshot are thrown and disarmed_.

_Cher_. [Aside.] What! the rogues taken! then they'll
impeach my father: I must give him timely notice.

[_Runs out_.

_Arch_. Shall we kill the rogues?

_Aim_. No, no, we 'll bind them.

_Arch_. Ay, ay.--[_To Mrs. Sullen, who stands by him_.]
Here, madam, lend me your garter.

_Mrs. Sul_. [_Aside_.] The devil's in this fellow! he fights,
loves, and banters, all in a breath.--[_Aloud_.]
Here's a cord that the rogues brought with 'em, I
suppose. {20}

_Arch_. Right, right, the rogue's destiny, a rope to hang
himself.--Come, my lord--this is but a scandalous
sort of an office [_Binding the Highwaymen together_.]
if our adventures should end in this sort of
hangman-work; but I hope t