Skin. Death!
Death. Yes Sir, at your Service, Dismal Death of—pretty well known in this City.
Skin. And pray Mr. Dismal Death, what do you want with me?
Death. I am come to take measure of you for a Coffin.
Skin. What! How!
Shar. Yes you old Prig, I ordered him to take Measure of you and Measure he shall take this Instant; do you hear, Mr. Death, measure him, measure the old Prig; I'll hold him fast.
(SHARK lays hold of him while Mr. DEATH measures him)
Skin. Are you going to murder me? You Villain! Here Lucy, Nephew, Murder!
(Enter LUCY and BELLAIR)
Bell. How now, what's the matter? Are you going to rob my Uncle?