times with the stick_.) "Here is vat I give you for him." (_Calling
out as if he received the beating_) Ah! ah! ah! ah! Sir. Ah! ah! Sir,
gently! Ah! pray. Ah! ah! ah! "Dere, bear him dat from me. Goot-pye."
Ah! the wretch. Ah!...ah!

GER. (_looking out_). Ah! Scapin, I can bear it no longer.

SCA. Ah! Sir, I am bruised all over, and my shoulders are as sore as
can be.

GER. How! It was on mine he laid his stick.

SCA. I beg your pardon, Sir, it was on my back.

GER. What do you mean? I am sure I felt the blows, and feel them
still.

SCA. No, I tell you; it was only the end of his stick that reached
your shoulders.

GER. You should have gone a little farther back, then, to spare me,
and....

SCA. (_pushing_ GERONTE'S _head back into the sack_). Take
care, here is another man who looks like a foreigner. "Frient, me
run like one Dutchman, and me not fint all de tay dis treatful
Geronte." Hide yourself well. "Tell me, you, Sir gentleman, if you
please, know you not vere is dis Geronte, vat me look for?" No, Sir,
I do not know where Geronte is. "Tell me, trutful, me not vant much
vit him. Only to gife him one tosen plows vid a stick, and two or