Bob. Yes: let’s cool him off.
Butts. Would you offer violence? Young men, respect the law.
Harry. Here, boys, grab his legs. I’ll take his head.
Bob. No: let me have the lightest part.
Butts. Keep off,—I say, keep off!
Harry. It’s no use, Butts; in you go.
Fred. The lake is waiting to receive you.
Bob. We’ll make a water-butt of you, Butts.
Butts. Help, help, murder! (They seize him in their arms, and carry him to the door. Enter Dr. Harlem. They drop Butts, and go, R. and L. Enter Dilly, L.)
Doctor. Well, well, young gentlemen, you seem to be amusing yourselves in an unwonted manner. May I inquire the cause of this assault?