Arch. Come, my dear cussen, come along.
Foig. Arra, the devil taake our relashion. [Exeunt.
Enter Boniface, Hounslow, and Bagshot, at one
Door, Gibbet at the opposite.
Gib. Well, gentlemen, 'tis a fine night for our enterprize.
Houns. Dark as hell.
Bag. And blows like the devil: our landlord here has shown us the window where we must break in, and tells us the plate stands in the wainscot cupboard in the parlour.
Bon. Ay, ay, Mr. Bagshot, as the saying is, knives and forks, cups and cans, tumblers and tankards.—There's one tankard, as the saying is, that's near upon as big as me: it was a present to the 'squire from his godmother, and smells of nutmeg and toast, like an East India ship.
Houns. Then you say we must divide at the stair-head.
Bon. Yes, Mr. Hounslow, as the saying is——at one end of the gallery lies my Lady Bountiful and her daughter, and at the other, Mrs. Sullen—as for the 'squire.——
Gib. He's safe enough; I have fairly entered him, and he's more than half seas over already—But such a parcel of scoundrels are got about him there, that, egad, I was ashamed to be seen in their company.