Bal. Is that all? the fellow's a fool.
Bul. I know that, an't like your worship; but if your worship pleases to grant me a warrant to bring her before your worship, for fear of the worst.
Bal. Thou'rt mad, fellow; thy sister's safe enough.
Kite. I hope so too. [Aside.
Wor. Hast thou no more sense, fellow, than to believe that the captain can list women?
Bul. I know not whether they list them, or what they do with them, but I'm sure they carry as many women as men with them out of the country.
Bal. But how came you not to go along with your sister?
Bul. Lord, sir, I thought no more of her going than I do of the day I shall die: but this gentleman here, not suspecting any hurt neither, I believe—you thought no harm, friend, did you?
Kite. Lack-a-day, sir, not I——only that I believe I shall marry her to-morrow.
Bal. I begin to smell powder. Well, friend, but what did that gentleman with you?