Dorothy. Roger! Now I remember! It is not safe for you to stay!
Roger (very brave). Am I a puling child to be afraid?
Dorothy. My Lord Carey is here. He has read your letter.
Roger. The black-livered dog! Would I had him at my sword's point to teach him manners.
(He puts his hand to his heart and staggers into a chair.)
Dorothy. Oh, you are wounded!
Roger. Faugh, 'tis but a scratch. Am I a puling——
(He faints. She binds up his ankle.)
Enter Lord Carey with two soldiers.
Carey. Arrest this traitor! (Roger is led away by the soldiers.)