(Retire, 2 L. H.)
Enter SAM NEWGATE, R.H., followed by PETER PRIG—they are dressed in large great coats—NEWGATE has a lantern in his hand—the heads of two pistols are just seen one from each pocket—PRIG has in his hand a black mask.
NEW. Come along, man; don’t crawl!
PRIG. I don’t like it a bit.
NEW. Pshaw! you’re not half a fellow,—you’re a humbug, Peter.
BOLT. What two respectable individuals.
MIZ. Ah! you and I may look like them, if we take many more holidays.
NEW. The streets are clear.—So you were old Cotton’s foreman?
PRIG. Yes, sure! I was, some time ago!
MIZ. Ah! Cotton’s foremen are always pretty blossoms.