Frank. Pretty well now, boy; I have such odd qualms
Come cross my stomach.—I’ll fall-to; boy, cut me—
Win. [Aside.] You have cut me, I’m sure;—A leg or wing, sir?
Frank. No, no, no; a wing—
[Aside.] Would I had wings but to soar up yon tower!
But here’s a clog that hinders me.
Re-enter Carter, with Servants bearing the body of Susan in a coffin.
What’s that?
Car. That! what? O, now I see her; ’tis a young wench, my daughter, sirrah, sick to the death; and hearing thee to be an excellent rascal for letting blood, she looks out at a casement, and cries, “Help, help! stay that man! him I must have or none.”
Frank. For pity’s sake, remove her: see, she stares
With one broad open eye still in my face!
Car. Thou putted’st both hers out, like a villain as thou art; yet, see! she is willing to lend thee one again to find out the murderer, and that’s thyself.
Frank. Old man, thou liest!
Car. So shalt thou—in the gaol.—
Run for officers.