BEARD. God give you joy, sir. THROAT. But where's mad Small-shanks? BEARD. O, hard at hand, And almost mad with loss of his fair bride; Let not my lovely mistress be seen; And see, if you can draw him to compound For all his title to her: I have serjeants, Ready to do the feat, when time shall serve. THROAT. Stand you aside, dear love[392]; nay, I will firk My silly novice, as he was never firk'd, Since midwives bound his noddle: here they come. _Enter_ WILLIAM SMALL-SHANKS, THOMAS SMALL-SHANKS, _and_ BOUTCHER. W. SMALL. O Master Throat, unless you speak good news, My hopes are cross'd, and I undone for ever! THROAT. I never thought you'd come to other end; Your courses have been always so profane, Extravagant and base. W. SMALL. Nay, good sir, hear: Did not my love return? came she not hither? For Jove's love, speak. THROAT. Sir, will you get you gone, And seek your love elsewhere? for know, my house Is not to entertain such customers As you and your comrades. W. SMALL. Is the man mad Or drunk? Why, Master Throat, know you to whom You talk so saucily? THROAT. Why, unto you And to your brother Small-shanks: will you be gone? BOUT. Nay, good sir, hold us not in this suspense; Answer directly: came not the virgin hither? THROAT. Will you be gone directly? are you mad? Come you to seek a virgin in Ram-Alley, So near an inn-of-court, and amongst cooks, Ale-men, and laundresses? why, are you fools? W. SMALL. Sir, leave this firk of law, or, by this light, I'll give your throat a slit. Came she not hither? Answer to that point. THROAT. What, have you lost her? Come, do not gull your friends. W. SMALL. By heaven, she's gone, Unless she be return'd since we last left you. THROAT. Nay, then, I cry you mercy; she came not hither, As I am an honest man: is't possible, A maid so lovely fair, so well-demean'd, Should be took from you? what, you three-- So young, so brave, and valiant gentlemen-- Sure, it cannot be! T. SMALL. Afore God, 'tis true. W. SMALL. To our perpetual shame, 'tis now too true. 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]