_Ser. [Within.]_ Who is there?
_Lory._ Open the door and see: is that your country
breeding?
_Ser._ Ay, but two words to that bargain.--Tummus, is the
blunderbuss primed?
_Fash._ Ouns! give 'em good words, Lory,--or we shall be
shot here a fortune catching.
_Lory._ Egad, sir, I think you're in the right on't.--Ho!
Mr. What-d'ye-call-'um, will you please to let us in? or are we
to be left to grow like willows by your moat side?
SERVANT _appears at the window with a blunderbuss._
_Ser._ Well naw, what's ya're business?
_Fash._ Nothing, sir, but to wait upon Sir Tunbelly, with
your leave.
_Ser._ To weat upon Sir Tunbelly! why, you'll find that's
just as Sir Tunbelly pleases.
_Fash._ But will you do me the favour, sir, to know whether
Sir Tunbelly pleases or not?
_Ser._ Why, look you, d'ye see, with good words much may be
done. Ralph, go thy ways, and ask Sir Tunbelly if he pleases to
be waited upon--and dost hear, call to nurse, that she may lock
up Miss Hoyden before the gates open.
_Fash._ D'ye hear, that, Lory?
_Enter SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY, with SERVANTS, armed with guns,
clubs, pitchforks, &c_.
_Lory_. Oh! [_Runs behind his master_.] O Lord! O Lord!
Lord! we are both dead men!
_Fash_. Fool! thy fear will, ruin us. [_Aside to
LORY_.]
_Lory_. My fear, sir? 'sdeath, Sir, I fear nothing.--