Enter Sir Davy Dunce.
Sir Dav. My dear, how dost thou do, my dear? I am come.
L. Dunce. Ah, sir, what is't you've done? you've ruined me; your family, your fortune, all is ruined; where shall we go, or whither shall we fly?
Sir Dav. Where shall we go! why, we'll go to bed, you little jackadandy: why, you are not a wench, you rogue, you are a boy, a very boy, and I love you the better for't: sirrah, hey!
L. Dunce. Ah, sir, see there.
Sir Dav. Bless us! a man! and bloody! what, upon my hall-table!
L. Dunce. Two ruffians brought him in just now, pronouncing the inhuman deed was done by your command: Sir Jolly came in the same minute, or sure I had died with my distracting fears. How could you think on a revenge so horrid?
Sir Dav. As I hope to be saved, neighbour, I only bargained with them to bastinado him in a way, or so, as one friend might do to another: but do you say that he is dead?
Sir Jol. Dead, dead as clay; stark stiff and useless all, nothing about him stirring, but all's cold and still. I knew him a lusty fellow once, a very mettled fellow; 'tis a thousand pities!
Sir Dav. What shall I do? I'll throw myself upon him, kiss his wide wounds, and weep till blind as buzzard.