BUTTER. 
No, thank you.  It’s against the law to smoke.

KEMPTHORN. 
Then, will you drink?  There’s good ale at this inn.

BUTTER. 
No, thank you.  It’s against the law to drink.

KEMPTHORN. 
Well, almost everything’s against the law
In this good town.  Give a wide berth to one thing,
You’re sure to fetch up soon on something else.

BUTTER. 
And so you sail to-day for dear Old England. 
I am not one of those who think a sup
Of this New England air is better worth
Than a whole draught of our Old England’s ale.

KEMPTHORN. 
Nor I. Give me the ale and keep the air. 
But, as I said, I do not sail to-day.

BUTTER. 
Ah yes; you sail today.

KEMPTHORN. 
                    I’m under bonds
To take some Quakers back to the Barbadoes;
And one of them is banished, and another
Is sentenced to be hanged.

BUTTER. 
                  No, all are pardoned,
All are set free by order of the Court;
But some of them would fain return to England. 
You must not take them.  Upon that condition
Your bond is cancelled.

KEMPTHORN. 
             Ah, the wind has shifted! 
I pray you, do you speak officially?

BUTTER. 
I always speak officially.  To prove it,
Here is the bond.

Rising and giving a paper.

KEMPTHORN. 
          And here’s my hand upon it,
And look you, when I say I’ll do a thing
The thing is done.  Am I now free to go?

BUTTER. 
What say?

KEMPTHORN. 
     I say, confound the tedious man
With his strange speaking-trumpet!  Can I go?

BUTTER. 
You’re free to go, by order of the Court. 
Your servant, sir.
                             [Exit.

KEMPTHORN (shouting from the window). 
              Swallow, ahoy!  Hallo! 
If ever a man was happy to leave Boston,
That man is Simon Kempthorn of the Swallow!

Re-enter BUTTER.

BUTTER. 
Pray, did you call?

KEMPTHORN. 
      Call!  Yes, I hailed the Swallow.

BUTTER. 
That’s not my name.  My name is Edward Butter. 
You need not speak so loud.

KEMPTHORN (shaking hands). 
                  Good-by!  Good-by!

BUTTER. 
Your servant, sir.

KEMPTHORN. 
        And yours a thousand times!
                           [Exeunt.

SCENE III. —­ GOVERNOR ENDICOTT’S private room.  An open window.

ENDICOTT seated in an arm-chair.  BELLINGHAM standing near.

ENDICOTT. 
O lost, O loved! wilt thou return no more? 
O loved and lost, and loved the more when lost! 
How many men are dragged into their graves
By their rebellious children!  I now feel
The agony of a father’s breaking heart
In David’s cry, “O Absalom, my son!”

BELLINGHAM. 
Can you not turn your thoughts a little while
To public matters?  There are papers here
That need attention.