Arch. Hold, profane villain, and take the reward of thy sacrilege!
Gib. Oh! pray, sir, don't kill me; I an't prepared.
Arch. How many is there of 'em, 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! [170]
Arch. Run to Gipsy'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.