front) The only steed in all our royal stable;
We’d keep a dozen were we only able.
The times are hard and out of joint ’tis clear.
We’re out of joints ourselves—and beer,
Ha! ha! (to Rooster.) Why can’t you laugh? Ha! ha!
Rooster, (feebly,) He! he!
G. King. What mean these looks, you’re very grave, I see.
Well, let’s to business. What are all these matters?
We want some coin, our robes are torn to tatters.
(seats himself on rock. R.)