Roy. Poor dear! how sad! Hasn’t seen him since last night——no, this morning; for I’ll be hanged if the sun wasn’t rising when I got up to fasten the door after him!
Bess. Yes, your father’s son. What a shame——
Roy. You’re right. I nearly caught my death.
Bess. To talk so! You know he left the house before ten.
Roy. This morning, yes. Quite time to be moving.
May. Roy, don’t torment her. See how anxious she is!
Roy. As anxious as a cat to seize a poor little mouse, that she may tease it.
Bess. Oh, you wicked wretch! You know we never quarrel. (Goes L.)
(Marcus runs in C., riding-whip in hand.)
Mar. Oh, here you are, Manning! Call your chickens under their mother’s wing; fasten up the hen-roost; barricade your pigpen; call out your troops, and plant your biggest guns upon the ramparts. The enemy is at your door!