on pretence of violent illness, to the vaults under the castle,) why continue, this mock-war any longer?
Enter Servant.
Bar. By this man's looks one might suppose that our mockery had turned lo earnest..
Liv. (to Serv.) What is the matter?
Serv. A party of the real enemy, Madam, has come to attack the castle, and is now fighting with the Chevalier's men at the gate.
Liv. Why did you not open the gate to receive the Chevalier's men?
Serv. They called to us to get in; but we could not distinguish them from the enemy, who were close on their heels, so we let down the portcullis, an't please you, and they must fight it out under the walls as they can.
Bar. Is the Chevalier in the castle?
Serv. O lud, no, Sir! he sallied out by the postern with Mr. Walter Baurchel and some of the domestics, and is fighting with them like a devil. But his numbers are so small, we fear he must be beaten; and
Liv. And how can we hold out with neither men, ammunition, nor provisions. Merciful Heaven deliver us!
Enter Maid-Servants, wringing their hands.
Maids. O lud, lud! What wall become of us? What will become of us? What shall we do?
