_Bayes._ Pish! there you are out; to all future end! no, no; to all future END! You must lay the accent upon "end," or else you lose the conceit. _Smith._ I see you are very perfect in these matters. _Bayes._ Ay, sir, I have been long enough at it, one would think, to know something. _Enter_ SOLDIERS, _dragging in an old_ FISHERMAN. _Ama._ Villain, what monster did corrupt thy mind T' attack the noblest soul of human kind? Tell me who set thee on. _Fish._ Prince Prettyman. _Ama._ To kill whom? _Fish._ Prince Prettyman. _Ama._ What! did Prince Prettyman hire you to kill Prince Prettyman? _Fish._ No; Prince Volscius. _Ama._ To kill whom? _Fish._ Prince Volscius. _Ama._ What! did Prince Volscius hire you to kill Prince Volscius? _Fish._ No, Prince Prettyman. _Ama._ So drag him hence, Till torture of the rack produce his sense. [_Exeunt._ _Bayes._ Mark how I make the horror of his guilt confound his intellects; for he's out at one and t'other: and that's the design of this scene. _Smith._ I see, sir, you have a several design for every scene. _Bayes._ Ay, that's my way of writing; and so, sir, I can dispatch you a whole play, before another man, egad, can make an end of his plot. SCENE IV. So now enter Prince Prettyman in a rage. Where the devil is he? why, Prettyman? why, where I say? O fie, fie, fie, fie! all's marr'd, I vow to gad, quite marr'd. _Enter_ PRETTYMAN. Phoo, phoo! you are come too late, sir; now you may go out again, if you please. I vow to gad, Mr.--a--I would not give a button for my play, now you have done this. _Pret._ What, sir? _Bayes._ What, sir! why, sir, you should have come out in choler, rouse upon the stage, just as the other went off. Must a man be eternally telling you of these things? _Johns._ Sure this must be some very notable matter that he's so angry at. _Smith._ I am not of your opinion. _Bayes._ Pish! come let's hear your part, sir. _Pret._[27]Bring in my father: why d'ye keep him from me? Altho' a fisherman, he is my father: Was ever son yet brought to this distress, To be, for being a son, made fatherless! Ah! you just gods, rob me not of a father: The being of a son take from me rather. [_Exit._ _Smith._ Well, Ned, what think you now? _Johns._ A devil, this is worst of all: Mr. Bayes, pray what's the meaning of this scene? _Bayes._ O cry you mercy, sir: I protest I had forgot to tell you. Why, sir, you must know, that long before the beginning of this play, this prince was taken by a fisherman. _Smith._ How, sir, taken prisoner? _Bayes._ Taken prisoner! O Lord, what a question's there! did ever any man ask such a questions? Plague on him, he has put the plot quite out of my head with this--this--question! what was I going to say? _Johns._ Nay, Heaven knows: I cannot imagine.