Lat. Dead, my Master dead? Aubrey alive too?
Gua. Latorch, Sir.
Aub. Seize his body.
Lat. My Master dead?
Aub. And you within this halfhour,
Prepare your self good Devil, you must to it,
Millions of gold shall not redeem thy mischief,
Behold the Justice of thy practice, villain;
The mass of murthers thou hast drawn upon us:
Behold thy doctrine; you look now for reward, Sir,
To be advanc'd, I'm sure, for all your labours?
And you shall have it, make his gallows higher
By ten foot at the least, and then advance him.
Lat. Mercy, mercy.
Aub. 'Tis too late fool,
Such as you meant for me, away with him. [He is led out.
What gaping knaves are these, bring 'em in fellows,
Now, what are you?
Nor. Mathematicians, if it please your Lordship.
Aub. And you drew a figure?
Fis. We have drawn many.