Chapter 20

Mr. ANDREWS's house.

THOMAS and MARIA.

MARIA. Who releas'd you?

THOMAS. Our unhappy master.

MARIA. Is he in town, and up at this late hour?

THOMAS. He's in the house; and heaven grant, Maria, He holds his reason: for he rush'd impetuous, With looks as madness wild, into the room, Where I sat tied; when falling on his knees, He crav'd my pardon; then, from my bruis'd arms He cut the cords, and hastily ran off.

MARIA. Which way?

THOMAS. Towards the compting-house.

MARIA. O heav'n!

THOMAS. Why this alarm?

MARIA. His arms are there.

THOMAS. 'Tis true, And never man appear'd more desperate. Wherefore, as ev'n a moment's loss were dangerous; I'll for his neighbours speed, Wilson and Goodwin. [He goes off.]

MARIA. The mischief is at hand, and 'twill require My deepest skill, or I'm undone for ever. But to the last I will assert my innocence. [A bell rings.] This is my mistress, and from her bedchamber. [Rings again.] Again it rings; and with unusual violence.-- I must away--What fights may meet me now!-- [She goes off.]