Log. (Singing). “A Queen she cannot swagger.” I will have this fiddle—“nor get drunk like a beggar.”—More max here—“Nor be half so merry as I.”
[Logic becoming obstreperous, they partly force him off, and exeunt with him.]
Mace. Regular out-and-outers those ’ere! quite gemmen—I’ve stuck it into ’em a bit! (Aside).
Bob. Aye, ay, ve knows it! vith the chill off!—you’re an out-and-out Stringer, you are!
Mace. So I don’t mind standing a trifle of summat all round, just by way of drinking their healths; and vhen ve’ve had the liquor, ve’ll kick up a reel, and all go to our dabs.
Bob. Ay ay! but before that, mind you get us a bit of grub for me and my Sal—about a pound and a half of rump steak—
Sal. No, two pound Massa Bob, for her rather peckish.
Bob. Very vell, two pound, vith a pickled cowcumber, and a pen’orth o’ ketchup, to make some gravy of; and stick it up to the bell!—d’ye hear?
Mace. You’ll melt that ’ere bell if you don’t mind, Muster Bob; this is vhat I don’t like—vhy don’t you always take care and bring plenty of money in your pockets?—You know I’m wery particular in things of this here kind!—though I don’t mind obliging you——
Bob. Ay, ay, vith the chill off, I knows!—but it’s all right—must have the bell in the morning, you know, even if I spout the togs for it.