Man. Deliver us.
Woman. Deliver us.
Rafe. What gastly noise is this? speak Barbaroso
Or by this blazing steel thy head goes off.
Barb. Prisoners of mine, whom I in diet keep,
Send lower down into the Cave,
And in a Tub that's heated smoaking hot,
There may they find them and deliver them.
Rafe. Run Squire and Dwarf, deliver them with speed.
Exeunt Squire and Dwarf.
Wife. But will not Raf[e] kill this Giant, surely I am afraid if he let him go he will do as much hurt, as ever he did.
Citizen. Not so Mouse neither, if he could convert him.
Wife. I George, if he could convert him; but a Gyant is not so soon converted as one of us ordinary people. There's a pretty tale of a Witch, that had the Divels mark about her, God bless us, that had a Gyant to her son, that was call'd Lob-lie-by-the-fire, didst never hear it George.
Enter Squire leading a man with a glass of Lotion in his hand, and the Dwarf leading a woman, with Dyet-bread and Drink.