SKIRMISH.
To prison? where’s George?
OFFICER.
Away with him.
[Exeunt with Skirmish.]
[Re-enter Pye-board.]
PYE.
So.
All lights as I would wish. The amazed widdow
Will plant me strongly now in her belief,
And wonder at the virtue of my words:
For the event turns those presages from em
Of being mad and dumb, and begets joy
Mingled with admiration. These empty creatures,
Soldier and Corporal, were but ordained
As instruments for me to work upon.
Now to my patient; here’s his potion.
[Exit Pye-board.]
SCENE II. An apartment in the Widow’s house.]
[Enter the Widdow with her two Daughters.]
WIDDOW.
O wondrous happiness, beyond our thoughts:
O lucky fair event! I think our fortunes,
Were blest e’en in our Cradles: we are quitted
Of all those shameful violent presages
By this rash bleeding chance. Go, Frailty, run, and know,
Whether he be yet living, or yet dead,
That here before my door received his hurt.
FRAILTY. Madam, he was carried to the superiour, but if he had no money when he came there, I warrant he’s dead by this time.