Gib. Oh! pray, sir, don't kill me; I an't prepared.
Arch. How many is there of them, Scrub?
Scrub. Five and forty, sir.
Arch. Then I must kill the villain, to have him out of the way.
Gib. Hold! hold! sir; we are but three, upon my honour.
Arch. Scrub, will you undertake to secure him?
Scrub. Not I, sir; kill him, kill him!
Arch. Run to Gipsey's chamber; there you'll find the doctor; bring him hither presently. [Exit Scrub, running.] Come, rogue, if you have a short prayer, say it.
Gib. Sir, I have no prayer at all; the government has provided a chaplain to say prayers for us on these occasions.
Mrs. Sul. Pray, sir, don't kill him: You fright me as much as him.