Sam. You must be courting wenches
Through key-holes, Captain Hylas, come and be comforted,
The skin is scarce broke.
Tho. O my leg.
Sam. How do ye Sir?
Tho. Oh maim'd for ever with a fall, he's spoil'd too,
I see his brains.
Hyl. Away with me for Gods sake,
A Surgeon.
Sam. Here's a night indeed.
Hyl. A Surgeon. [Ex. all but Fidler.
Enter Mary, and Servant below.
Mary. Go run for help.
Tho. Oh.