Isa. Alas, does any oppose us?
L. Whim. Only some stragling fellows, which Amorous will scour; and in the Corner of the Grove the Chariot waits. (Exeunt.
Mar. Now will your Ladyship please to conceive these three are got into my Lord Whimsicall's Castle? Whither Fastin, mad with Jealousie and Love, pursues: Now your Lordship shall see the storming of a Fort, not like your Jerusalem, but the modern way; my Men shall go all up thro' a trap door, and ever now and then one drop polt down dead. (talking eagerly, she throws my Lords Snuff-box down.
L. Whim. Like my Snuff-box, Madam. 'Ouns my Snuff cost two Guineas.
Mar. I beg your Lordship's pardon.
Mr. Prais. Two Guineas, it shan't be all lost then.
(Picks up the Snuff.
Mar. Are you ready? (goes to the Scenes. Within.) Yes, yes, Madam.
SCENE
A Castle Storming.
Mar. My Lord, my Lord, this will make you amends for your Snuff! Drums beat; mount, ye Lumpish Dogs: what are you afraid of? you know the Stones are only Wool: Faster, with more Spirit? Brutes. Oh Jehu! I am sorry I had not this Castle taken by women, then t'had been done like my Grotesque Dance there: mount, mount, Rascals.