Sailors. Aye, aye, sir.
Citizens cross stage, singly and in groups, all going in the same direction. Enter Mother Carey from house with ale, serves it, looks up and down street as in expectation of some one, then goes in.
Butts. Mother Carey's lost one of her chicks. Here lads! [top] here's to the mousey Puritan lassies! They won't dance, they can't sing—Ah! well! here's to them till we come again!
[All drink.
Enter along the street two Councilors.
Arnold. 'Tis very true; but, sir, though many break this law and go unpunished, our godly Company should not wink at known adultery.
Langdon. In other words, we must find scape-goats to bear our sins.
Arnold. Nay, not exactly that. We vindicate God's laws, and——
[Exeunt Councilors.
Butts. He must be Privy Councilor to the Lord Himself!