_Four._ Truly, sir, I am sorry to see it with all my heart; 'tis a distraction that frequently seizes him, though I am sorry it should happen so unluckily at this time. _Sir Dav._ Distracted, say you? is he so apt to be distracted? _Four._ Oh, sir, raging mad; we that live by murder are all so; guilt will never let us sleep. I beseech you, sir, stand clear of him; he's apt to be very mischievous at these unfortunate hours. _Bloody-B._ Have I been drunk with tender infants' blood, And ripped up teeming wombs? Have these bold hands Ransacked the temples of the gods, and stabbed The priests before their altars? Have I done this? ha! _Sir Dav._ No, sir, not that I know, sir; I would not say any such thing for all the world, sir. Worthy gentleman, I beseech you, sir--you seem to be a civil person--I beseech you, sir, to mitigate his passion. I'll do anything in the world; you shall command my whole estate. _Four._ Nay, after all, sir, if you have not a mind to have him quite murdered, if a swingeing drubbing to bed-rid him, or so, will serve your turn, you may have it at a cheaper rate a great deal. _Sir Dav._ Truly, sir, with all my heart; for methinks, now I consider matters better, I would not by any means be guilty of another man's blood. _Four._ Why, then let me consider: to have him beaten substantially, a beating that will stick by him, will cost you--half the money. _Sir Dav._ What, one hundred pounds! sure the devil's in you, or you would not be so unconscionable. _Bloody-B._ The devil! where? where is the devil? show me; I'll tell thee, Beelzebub, thou'st broke thy covenant; Didst thou not promise me eternal plenty, When I resigned my soul to thy allurements? _Sir Dav._ Ah, Lord! _Bloody-B._ Touch me not yet; I've yet ten thousand murders To act before I'm thine: with all those sins I'll come with full damnation to thy caverns Of endless pain, and howl with thee for ever. _Sir Dav._ Bless us! what will become of this mortal body of mine? Where am I? is this a house? do I live? am I flesh and blood? _Bloody-B._ There, there's the fiend again! don't chatter so, And grin at me; if thou must needs have prey, Take here, take him, this tempter that would bribe me, With shining gold, To stain my hands with new iniquity. _Sir Dav._ Stand off, I charge thee, Satan, wheresoe'er thou art; thou hast no right nor claim to me; I'll have thee bound in necromantic charms. Hark you, friend, has the gentleman given his soul to the devil? _Four._ Only pawned it a little; that's all.