Throat. Is she not left behind you in the tavern?
Are you sure you brought her out? were you not drunk,
And so forgot her?
W. Small. A pox on all such luck!
I will find her, or, by this good light,
I'll fire all the city. Come, let's go:
Whoever has her shall not long enjoy her,
I'll prove a contract; let us walk the round.
I'll have her, if she keep above the ground. [Exit.
Throat. Ha, ha, ha! he makes me sport, i' faith.
The gull is mad, stark-mad. Dash, draw the bond,
And a release of all his interest
In this my loved wife.
Beard. Ay, be sure of that,
For I have certain goblins in buff jerkins[393]
Re-enter William Small-Shanks with the Serjeants.
Lie in ambuscado for him.
Officer. I arrest you, sir.
W. Small. Rescue! rescue!
Throat. O, he is caught.
W. Small. I'll give you bail:
Hang off, honest catchpoles. Master Throat, good, wise,
Learned and honest Master Throat, now, now—
Now or never, help me.