Omnes. Heaven is just.
Capt. Pouts. What a rogue are you!
Is this the surgeon you would carry me to?
Strange. Confess your slander, and I will, I swear.
Capt. Pouts. Nay, 'tis no matter, I'll cry quittance with you.
Forgive me, Mistress Kate, and know, all people,
I lied not with her, but belied her once;
And to my recantation that same soldier
Enforc'd my hand.
Strange. Yes, here 'tis, Mistress Kate.
[They all look on the paper.
Capt. Pouts. I see now how I am cheated. Love him well.
He has redeem'd your honour with his sword.
Sir J. Wor. But where is Strange my son? O, were he here,
He should be married new to make all sure.
Kath. O my divining spirit, he's gone to sea!
Capt. Pouts. This cunning in her is exceeding good.
Your son—your husband Strange is murdered.