2nd Sold. Ha! Blasphemest thou?
3rd Sold. He scoffeth!
4th Sold. Down with him.
Host. O fool! There will be blood spilt!
[They drag WILLIAM down (the HOST vainly endeavouring to interfere) and buffet him; as Sin-Despise draws his sword, the trumpets sound outside to saddle.]
[Enter HARRISON, R.S.E.]
Har. Why dally ye? Away! Smite hip and thigh.
To horse, to horse! what ho! Zerubbabel!
Mount, mount, I say, for bloody Goring's near—
To saddle, ho!
[They immediately fall into line, and leave quickly, L. The trumpets are still heard sounding. Exeunt all but HOST and WILLIAM, who arranges his collar and adjusts himself.]
Host. [Breathless.] What thinkest thou of this?
Will. Think! what of? Thy late wife's virtue? I would she were here.