Const. It shall be done, sir—come along, sir.
[Exeunt Constable, Bullock, and Sylvia.
Bal. Come, Mr. Scale, we'll manage the spark presently.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
The Market Place.
Enter Plume and Kite.
Plume. A baker, a tailor, a smith, butchers, carpenters, and journeymen shoemakers, in all thirty-nine—I believe the first colony planted in Virginia had not more trades in their company than I have in mine.
Kite. The butcher, sir, will have his hands full, for we have two sheep-stealers among us—I hear of a fellow, too, committed just now for stealing of horses.
Plume. We'll dispose of him among the dragoons—Have we never a poulterer among us?