Rover. "I am the bold Thunder."
Harry. [Aside.] I am, if he knew but all.—Keep one standing in the road.
Rover. Beg your pardon, my dear Dick; but all the fault of—Plague on't, that a man can't sleep and breakfast at an inn, then return up to his bedchamber for his gloves that he'd forgot, but there he must find chambermaids, thumping feathers and knocking pillows about, and keep one when one has affairs and business. 'Pon my soul, these girls' conduct to us is intolerable. The very thought brings the blood into my face, and whenever they attempt to serve, provoke me so, damme but I will, I will—An't I right, Dick?
Harry. No; "all in the wrong."
Rover. No matter, Dick; that's the universal play "all round the wrekin:" but you are so conceited, because, by this company you're going to join at Winchester, you are engaged for high tragedy.
Harry. And you for Rangers, Plumes, and Foppingtons.
Rover. Our first play is Lear. I was devilish imperfect in Edgar, t'other night at Lymington. I must look it over. [Takes out a book.] "Away, the foul fiend follows me!" Hollo! stop a moment, we shall have the whole county after us. [Going.
Harry. What now?
Rover. That rosy faced chambermaid put me in such a passion, that, by Heaven, I walked out of the house, and forgot to pay our bill. [Going.
Harry. Never mind, Rover, it's paid.