A Room in Banks's Cottage.
Enter Farmer Gammon, Banks, and Sim.—Sim
writing, and crying.
F. Gam. Boy, go on with the inventory.
Sim. How unlucky! Feyther to lay hold of me when I wanted to practise my part. [Aside.
Banks. This proceeding is very severe, to lay an execution on my wretched trifling goods when I thought—
F. Gam. Ay, you know you've gone up to the big house with your complaint—her ladyship's steward, to be sure, has made me give back your cottage and farm; but your goods I seize for my rent.
Banks. Only leave me a very few necessaries—by the goodness of my neighbours, I may soon redeem what the law has put into your hands.
F. Gam. The affair is now in my lawyer's hands, and plaintiff and defendant chattering about it, is all smoke.
Sim. Feyther, don't be so cruel to Mr. Banks.
F. Gam. I'll mark what I may want to keep for myself. Stay here, and see that not a pin's worth be removed without my knowledge. [To Sim.] [Exit.
Sim. I'll be domm'd if I'll be your watch dog, to bite the poor, that I won't. Mr. Banks, as feyther intends to put up your goods at auction, if you could but get a friend to buy the choice of them for you again. Sister Jane has got steward to advance her a quarter's wages, and when I've gone to sell corn for feyther, besides presents, I've made a market penny now and then. Here—it's not much! but every little helps.