Farmer C. (ironically).
Oh, hev' you?
Then let me tell you, from all pain they're free, Sir.
The W. U. (falling on his knees).
I didn't poison them—it wasn't me, Sir!
Farmer C.
I thought as much—a constable I'll run for.
[Exit.
The W. U.
My wretched nerves again! this time I'm done for!