Over. Hold thy hand, child of wrath, and heir of anger, make it not Childermass day in thy fury, or the feast of the French Bartholomew, parent of the massacre.
Cokes. Numps, Numps!
Mrs. Over. Good master Humphrey!
Waspe. You are the Patrico, are you? the patriarch of the cut-purses? You share, sir, they say; let them share this with you. Are you in your hot fit of preaching again? I’ll cool you.
[Beats him again.
Over. Murther, murther, murther!
[Exeunt.
[ACT III]
SCENE I.—The Fair.
LANTHORN LEATHERHEAD, JOAN TRASH, and others, sitting by their wares, as before.