Count _Bas._ Shan't we stay for Sir _Francis_, Madam?
Lady _Wrong._ Lard! don't mind him! he will come if he likes it.
_Sir Fran._ Ay, ay! ne'er heed me----I ha' things to look after.
[_Exeunt Lady ~Wrong.~ and ~Count Bas~._
_Enter ~John Moody~._
_John Moody._ Did you Worship want muh?
Sir _Fran._ Ay, is the coach clear'd? and all our things in?
_John Moody._ Aw but a few band-boxes, and the nook that's left o'th'
goose poy----But a plague on him, th' Monkey has gin us the slip, I
think----I suppose he's goon to see his relations; for here looks to be
a power of 'um in this town----but heavy _Ralph_ is skawer'd after him.
Sir _Fran._ Why, let him go to the Devil! no matter, and the hawnds
had had him a month agoe----but I wish the coach and horses were got
safe to th' Inn! This is a sharp tawn, we mun look about us here,
_John_, therefore I would have you go alung with _Roger_, and see that
nobody runs away with them before they get to their stable.
_John Moody._ Alas-a-day, Sir: I believe our awld cattle woant yeasily
be run away with to-night--but howsomdever, we'st ta' the best care we
can of um, poor sawls.