Crusty. I’ll teach you to mangle me in that way, you scoundrel! (Runs after Mike, who gets under table, L.)
Mike. Aisy, Mr. Crusty: yer wanted a close shave; and, ’pon my word, I’d a ’gin it to yer if you’d waited!
Zeb. By golly! Mike’s under de table. Well, I guess I better look out for squalls. (Gets under table, R.)
Simper. Where’s that horrid bawbaw? (Sees Zeb under table, R.) The scoundwel! you black imp!—
Zeb. Hold yer hush! hold you hush! what dous the Declamation—
Crusty. Come out of that, or I break the table about your head.
Mike. If you plaze, Mr. Crusty, I’d rather stop here. (Enter Tonsor, L.)
Crusty. Oh! you’re back,—are you? Now, you villain, what do you mean by running off with my daughter?
Ton. I beg your pardon, sir; but I couldn’t help it: I was tempted.
Crusty. Tempted by who?