_Jean_.
We aren't your girls.

_Katrina_.
Do you mean the heads upon the Scottish Gate?

_Man_.
Ay, that's the show, a pretty one.

_Jean_.
Are all
The rebels' heads set up?

_Man_.
All, all; their cause
Is fallen flat; but go you on and see
How wonderly their proud heads are elate.

_Katrina_.
Do any look as if they died afeared?

_Man_.
Go and learn that yourselves. And when you mark
How grimly addled all the daring is
Now in those brains, do as your hearts shall bid you,
And that is weep, I hope.

_Mary_.
O let's go back.