_Stephen_.
Is he at home?

_Waggoner_.
No, not for many a day.
His steward, honest man, I know is doubtful
Whether he be alive; and yet his land
Is better farmed than any in the country.

_Stephen_.
He is not married, then?

_Waggoner_.
No. There's a gossip
Amongst the women--but who would heed their talk!--
That love half-crazed, then drove him out of doors,
To wander here and there, like a bad ghost,
Because a silly wench refused him:--fudge!

_Stephen_.
Most probably. I quite agree with you.
Where do you stop?

_Waggoner_.
At the first inn we come to;
You'll see it from the bottom of the hill.
There is a better at the other end,
But here the stabling is by far the best.