Enter Plume.
Bal. Captain, you're welcome.
Plume. Gentlemen, I thank you.
Scrup. Come, honest captain, sit by me. [Plume ascends, and sits upon the Bench.]—Now, produce your prisoners——Here, that fellow there, set him up. Mr. Constable, what have you to say against this man?
Const. I have nothing to say against him, an' please you.
Bal. No; what made you bring him hither?
Const. I don't know, an' please your worship.
Scale. Did not the contents of your warrant direct you what sort of men to take up?
Const. I can't tell, an' please ye; I can't read.
Scrup. A very pretty constable, truly. I find we have no business here.