AMANDA.
What has my folly done?—Help! murder! help! Part them for Heaven’s sake.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
[Falls back and leans on his sword.] Ah! quite through the body, stap my vitals!
Enter SERVANTS.
LOVELESS.
[Runs to LORD FOPPINGTON.] I hope I ha’nt killed the fool, however. Bear him up.—Call a surgeon there.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
Ay, pray make haste. [Exit SERVANT.
LOVELESS.
This mischief you may thank yourself for.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
I may say so; love’s the devil indeed, Ned.
Re-enter SERVANT, with PROBE.
SERVANT.
Here’s Mr. Probe, sir, was just going by the door.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
He’s the welcomest man alive.