WIFE.
Willing to leave it!
Tis guilty of sweet blood, innocent blood:
Murder has took this chamaber with full hands,
And will ne’er out as long as the house stands.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE VIII. A high road.
[Enter Husband as being thrown off his horse,
And falls.]
HUSBAND.
Oh stumbling Jade, the spavin overtake thee,
The fifty disease stop thee!
Oh, I am sorely bruisde; plague founder thee:
Thou runst at ease and pleasure. Hart of chance!
To Throw me now within a flight oth Town,
In such plain even ground, sfoot, a man
May dice up on’t, and throw away the Meadows.
Filthy beast.
CRY WITHIN.
Follow, follow, follow.
HUSBAND.
Ha! I hear sounds of men, like hew and cry:
Up, up, and struggle to thy horse, make on;
Dispatch that little begger and all’s done.
KNIGHT.
Here, this way, this way!
HUSBAND.
At my back? Oh,
What fate have I? my limbs deny me go,
My will is bated: beggery claims a part.
Oh, could I here reach to the infants heart.
[Enter Master of the College, 3. Gentlemen, and others with
Holberds.]