Harry. Why, no—I hope not. [Aside.
Rover. I'll step down stairs, and have the honour of—I'll kick him.
Harry. Stop! No, I wou'dn't have him hurt neither.
Rover. What's his name?
Harry. His name is—is—Abrawang.
Rover. Abrawang! Abrawang! I never heard of him; but, Dick, why would you let him persuade you to such a scandalous affair?
Harry. Why faith, I would have been off it; but when once he takes a project into his head, the devil himself can't drive him out of it.
Rover. Yes; but the constable may drive him into Winchester gaol.
Harry. Eh! your opinion of our intended exploit has made me ashamed of myself—Ha! ha! ha! Harkey, Jack, to frighten and punish my adviser, do you still keep on your character of young 'Squire Thunder—you can easily do that, as he, no more than myself, has ever seen the young gentleman.
Rover. But by Heavens I'll—"Quoit him down, Bardolph."