Gondi. Well, sir;—what then?
Rob. Marry, then, the wife is apt to grumble a little; that's all.
Gondi. Go to;—I had reason. What's the news?
Rob. The news is, we have taken some stragglers, in the forest.
Gondi. Are they of note?
Rob. 'Faith, we have some of all qualities;—gentle and simple mixed:—we had no time to stand upon the picking:—they're all penn'd up in the back cavern;—and you must e'en take 'em like a score of sheep—fat and lean together. But, there is a beardless youth, follow'd by a cowardly serving man, who presses hard to see you.
Gondi. What would he?
Rob. 'Faith, sir, he would be a noble fellow. I take it he has a great soul, too large for the laws;—he has questioned me plentifully concerning you.
Gondi. Concerning me?
Rob. Yes; he inquired if you were married; how long you had been with us; your age; your stature; nay, he was particular enough to ask what sort of a nose stood on your face.