Vapid. Then give me that candle—I have pen and ink—I think I could finish my epilogue.
Peter. Here, sir.
[Giving Candle.
Vapid. That curst half line—"Die all"—
[Peter shuts him in.
Flor. So, now, the storm begins, and if I don't have some sport with the enemy—[Sits at Table, and begins drinking.]—here she comes.
Enter Lady Waitfor't.
Flor. Chairs, Peter, chairs,—Sit down, ma'am—sit down—you honour me exceedingly.
Lady. Where is your brother, sir? I insist on seeing him.
Enter Lord Scratch.