Think that—[Embracing him, he bursts into Tears.]—my son, my boy!—Psha! pish! this nature—
Conduct me to——
La Gloire. [Catching hold of him.] Hold! hold!—We shall leap here, from bad to worse. I—I am bidden, father, to deliver a message to you.
Eust. Be quick, then; the time wears.
La Gloire. No, truly, 'twill not come quick. I must force it out in driblets. My captain bids me say, that—that brave men are scarce. Find six in the town, and you find all;—so he will join you at the market-cross, and—go with you—to——
Eust. The scaffold!
La Gloire. Yes, the sca—that word sticks so in my throat, I can't squeeze it out, for the life of me.
Eust. Why, this shows nobly now! our honest cause
Is graced in the addition. Lead me—[Observing La Gloire, weeping]—how now?