Lady Am. And meat and drink too, friend Ephraim. In the fulness of plenty, they shall join in thanksgiving for those gifts of which I am so unworthy. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
A Road.
Enter Harry Thunder, and Midge follows,
calling.
Midge. I say, Dick Buskin! harkye, my lad!
Harry. What keeps Rover?
Midge. I'm sure I don't know. As you desired, I paid for our breakfast. But the devil's in that fellow; every inn we stop at, he will always hang behind, chattering to the bar-maid, or chamber-maid.
Harry. Or any, or no maid. But he's a worthy lad; and I love him better, I think, than my own brother, had I one.
Midge. Oh! but, Dick, mind, my boy.
Harry. Stop, Midge. Though 'twas my orders, when I set out on this scamper with the players, (the better to conceal my quality,) for you, before people, to treat me as your companion; yet, at the same time, you should have had discretion enough to remember, when we're alone, that I am still your master, and son to Sir George Thunder.
Midge. Sir, I ask your pardon; but by making yourself my equal, I've got so used to familiarity, that I find it curst hard to shake it off.