Rover. Has the Winchester coach passed?
Waiter. No, sir. [Exit.
Rover. That's lucky! Then my trunk is here still. Go I will not. Since I've lost the fellowship of my friend Dick, I'll travel no more, I'll try a London audience, who knows but I may get an engagement. This celestial lady quaker! She must be rich, and ridiculous for such a poor dog as I am, even to think of her. How Dick would laugh at me if he knew—I dare say by this she has released my kind host from the gripe—I should like to be certain, though.
Enter Landlord.
Land. You'll dine here, sir? I'm honest Bob Johnstone; kept the Sun these twenty years. Excellent dinner on table at two.
Rover. "Yet my love indeed is appetite; I'm as hungry as the sea, and can digest as much."
Land. Then you won't do for my shilling ordinary, sir; there's a very good ordinary at the Saracen's head, at the end of the town. Shou'dn't have thought indeed, hungry foot travellers to eat like——coming, sir. [Exit.
Rover. I'll not join this company at Winchester. I will take a touch at a London theatre. The public there are candid and generous, and before my merit can have time to create enemies, I'll save money, and,—"a fig for the Sultan and Sophy."
Enter Jane, at the back, and Sim, watching her.
Jane. Ay, that's he!