Honeyw. Ha! contemptible to the world! That reaches me.
Aside.
Leont. All the seeming sincerity of your professions, I now find, were only allurements to betray; and all your seeming regret for their consequences, only calculated to cover the cowardice of your heart. Draw, villain!
Honeyw.—"Madam, you seem at least
calm enough to hear reason."—p. 314.
Enter Croaker out of breath.
Croaker. Where is the villain?
Where is the incendiary! (Seizing the Postboy.) Hold him fast, the dog; he has the gallows in his face. Come, you dog, confess; confess all, and hang yourself.
Postboy. Zounds, master! what do you throttle me for?
Croaker. (beating him). Dog, do you resist? do you resist?