Bout. Gone.
W. Small. How? which way? this is some plot.
T. Small. Down toward Fleet Bridge.
All. Follow, follow, follow!
1st Gent. So has the wench; let us pursue aloof,[381]
And see the event. This will prove good mirth,
When things unshap'd shall have a perfect birth. [Exit.
Enter William Small-Shanks, Boutcher, Thomas Small-Shanks, and Beard, their swords drawn.
W. Small. 'Tis a thing impossible they should be gone
Thus far, and we not see them.
T. Small. Upon my life,
They went in by the Greyhound, and so struck
Into Bridewell.
Bout. What should she make there?