_2nd Sold._ Ha! Blasphemest thou?

_3rd Sold._ He scoffeth!

_4th Sold._ Down with him.

_Host._ O fool! There will be blood spilt!

[_They drag WILLIAM down (the HOST vainly
endeavouring to interfere) and buffet him; as
Sin-Despise draws his sword, the trumpets
sound outside to saddle._]

[_Enter HARRISON, R.S.E._]

_Har._ Why dally ye? Away! Smite hip and thigh.
To horse, to horse! what ho! Zerubbabel!
Mount, mount, I say, for bloody Goring's near--
To saddle, ho!

[_They immediately fall into line, and leave
quickly, L. The trumpets are still heard
sounding. Exeunt all but HOST and WILLIAM, who
arranges his collar and adjusts himself._]

_Host._ [Breathless.] What thinkest thou of this?

_Will._ Think! what of? Thy late wife's virtue?
I would she were here.