Father, it's horrible. They don't do things like that, do they?

_Amos:_
Dumb--and a bloody T--and the thumbs. It's some other poor lad.

(BASSETT returns; with him a figure, the hands and ears bound up in
rough thick bandages, and on his forehead a burning red T. He looks at
them, with reason hardly awake.)

_Amos_
(going to him):
Seth--Seth, boy.

(SETH moves his lips, but makes no sound. They look at him in horror.)

_Bridget:_
Father--father.

_Cromwell:_
There--no--no.
(To BASSETT.)
Take him, good fellow. Care for him as you can. Get a surgeon for him.
Here's money. No, no, old man.

(BASSETT goes with SETH.)

_Amos:_
A bloody T. And dumb. God blast the King!

_Cromwell:_