Give him a kick o' the guts, and that will cure his extericks.
SIR JOHN HAZELWOOD.
A hasty remedy, gentle maiden.
(Sir John and Amaryllis lift Will neck and heels from the door.)
EnterDavidfrom the staircase.
DAVID.
Who stopped the door there? what's all this bustle for?
LANDLADY.
O, David, David! isn't there fire below stairs, David?
DAVID.
Yes, as much as will roast an egg, if you blow it well.
LANDLADY.
Nay, but I m sure the house is on fire, for I dreamt this very night that Pompey's whelp was gnawing a hole in my apron, and that bodes me no good. I'll go and look all over the house. Come, Doll.(Exeunt Landlady and Dolly.
