Banks. Why you, or any neighbour is welcome to walk in it, or to partake of what it produces, but making it a common thoroughfare is—
F. Gam. Here, Sim, kick open that garden gate.
Banks. What?
F. Gam. Does the lad hear?
Sim. Why yes, yes.
F. Gam. Does the fool understand.
Sim. Dang it, I'm as yet but young; but if understanding teaches me how to wrong my neighbour, I hope I may never live to years of discretion.
F. Gam. What, you cur, do you disobey your feyther? Burst open the garden gate, as I command you.
Sim. Feyther, he, that made both you and the garden, commands me not to injure the unfortunate.
F. Gam. Here's an ungracious rogue! Then I must do it myself. [Advances.]