Gib. That's much—The fellow has been at the bar, by his evasions:—But pray, sir, what is your master's name?
Arch. Tall, all, dall. [Sings, and brushes the Hat.] This is the most obstinate spot——
Gib. I ask you his name?
Arch. Name, sir,—Tall, all, dall—I never asked him his name in my life. Tall, all, dall.
Bon. What think you now?
Gib. Plain, plain; he talks now as if he were before a judge: but pray, friend, which way does your master travel?
Arch. On horseback.
Gib. Very well again; an old offender—Right; but, I mean, does he go upwards or downwards?
Arch. Downwards, I fear, sir! Tall, all.
Gib. I'm afraid thy fate will be a contrary way.