PUT.
Back-door?
GENTLEMAN.
Why, what’s the matter?
PUT.
He was our prisoner, sir; we did arrest him.
GENTLEMAN. What! he was not! you the Sheriff’s Officers! You were to blame then. Why did you no make known to me as much? I could have kept him for you: I protest he received all of me in Britain Gold of the last coining.
RAVEN.
Vengeance dog him with’t!
PUT.
Sfott, has he guiled us so?
DOGSON.
Where shall we sup now Sergeant?
PUT. Sup, Simon, now! eat Porridge for a month. Well, we cannot impute it to any lack of good-will in your Worship,—you did but as another would have done: twas our hard fortunes to miss the purchase, but if e’er we clutch him again, the Counter shall charm him.
RAVEN.
The hole shall rot him.
DOGSON.
Amen