(Somebody sneezes within.)
Capt. What's that?
Miss S.—Nothing, dear Terence, but the landlord's cat.
(Somebody coughs twice.)
Capt.—A cough!—another! Do cats cough so, my fair?
Ha! her cheeks redden! Tell me who is there?
That guilty look! Zounds! If my fears be true,
He'll curse the hour he dared to visit you!
(Draws his sword, and rushes into the bed-chamber. Miss S. faints. Voices within.)
Capt.—A man!—my eyes! another!—and another!
A fourth one still!
Snags. I'm dead with fright!
Pop. I smother!
(Capt. drives them before him into the drawing-room.)
Capt. (in a frenzy.)—Why, hell and Tommy! the maid whom I adore
To prove untrue, and play me false with four!
But all shall die!
(Captain Connor cuts No. 6. with his sword, while Clipclose and company fall upon their knees.)
Mags. Oh, Lord! I'm dead already!
Capt.—Prepare for death!
Snags and Pop. Indeed, sir, we an't ready.
Mr. C.—Probably, sir, affection for my wife
Might plead my pardon, and reprieve my life.