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Act II.
Re-enter Lance in dismay.
Lance. Naunt, I doubt it’s trae what she says, j
The beacon tower is as black as my belt. No pole- ■.
star of Peveril. What does that betoken ?
Dame. Death, ruin, and captivity. Make for the j
Castle, thou knave—thrust in thy fat carcase—strike :
for the house that fed thee and bred thee ; and, if
thou art buried under the ruins, thou diest a man’s j
Lance. You shall not find me slack, Naunt—.
(Noise heard without.)—But here comes folk that
1 warrant can tell us more on’t.
Enter Cicely and Marian running.
Cic. Oh, Lance ! fine work up at the Castle. •
Mar. They’ve carried off Sir Geoffry and my;
Cic. And my young master.
Mar. With his feet tied under the belly of the ■
Dame. A shameful sight to be seen—
Cic. In one so well born—
Mar. And so handsome.
Enter Nell running.
Nell And they have carried off all my lady’s li¬
Lance. Heaven be merciful to me! One at a
time. Lord save us! campaigning’s not in my line;
but, dang me, if old Sir Geoffry shall go to the wall,
without a knock for it. Here, you—Nell;—but no
—you hav’n’t the heart of a cat. Cis, my girl, you
are a stout-hearted wench, and know a buck from
a bullfinch : Hark thee, Cis, as you hope to be mar¬
ried, get up to Castle again—climb the walls,—you
know where,—see my lady, she’s a head worth twen- ,