Colonel S. I'm assured, sir, she never gave you any encouragement.
Sir H. A man can never hear reason with his sword in his hand. Sheath your weapon; and then, if I don't satisfy you, sheath it in my body.
Colonel S. Give me but demonstration of her granting you any favour, and it is enough.
Sir H. Will you take my word?
Colonel S. Pardon me, sir, I cannot.
Sir H. Will you believe your own eyes?
Colonel S. 'Tis ten to one whether I shall or no; they have deceived me already.
Sir H. That's hard—but some means I shall devise for your satisfaction—[Noise.]—We must fly this place, else that cluster of mob will overwhelm us. [Exeunt.
Enter Mob, Tom Errand's Wife hurrying in Clincher Senior in Errand's Clothes.
Wife. Oh! the villain, the rogue, he has murdered my husband. Ah, my poor Timothy! [Crying.