University of Virginia Library

SCENE VII.

The Matron, the Maid, the Centurion in a Fright.
AIR.
Centu.
Zounds! I'm undone!
Where shall I run?
They've stol'n a thief from the gibbet!
And, when I'm in his place,
As will soon be the case,
A fine figure I shall exhibit.

MAID.
Bless us, what storm is now a brewing?

MATRON.
What is the matter?

CENTURION.
Death and ruin.
While love with you prolong'd my stay,
Some rogues have watch'd their time,
And, from the gibbet, stol'n a thief away.
The magistrates to me will lay the crime;
And when 'tis miss'd, and I before 'em,
That other centinels their watch may keep,
I know they'll hang me in terrorem.

MATRON.
Hang you!

MAID.
I vow it makes me weep.

MATRON.
Is there no shift?

CENTURION.
No, none.

MAID.
'Tis true.

CENTURION.
Farewell! eternally adieu.
This night I shall have cause to rue.

MATRON.
Hold! there's a thought come in my head!
My husband is already dead,
And consequently has no feeling;
And 'twou'd be very cruel dealing
To let you suffer for my sake:
Yonder he lies, his body take;
Strip off the shroud, and hang it where
The robber has been taken down.

MAID.
A fine contrivance this, I swear.

MATRON.
While they see a body there,
The diff'rence never will be known.
Fate would my husband from me rend,
But shan't, if I can help it, take my friend.

MAID.
Thus of all fear, at once, she rids you.

CENTURION.
How shall I thank—

MAID.
AIR.