Har. Oh Traitor!
Mop. You’ll be sure to keep it from Harlequin.
Har. Ah yes, he, hang him, Fool, he takes you for a Saint.
Scar. Harlequin! Hang him, shotten Herring.
Har. Ay, a Cully, a Noddy.
Mop. A meer Zany.
Har. Ah, hard-hearted Turk.
Mop. Fit for nothing but a Cuckold.
Har. Monster of Ingratitude! How shall I be reveng’d?
[Scar, going over the Balcony.
—Hold, hold, thou perjur’d Traitor.
[Cries out in a Woman’s Voice.
Mop. Ha, discover’d!—A Woman in the Garden!