Robin. Well, well, though he is a little crabbed and sour, he’s a good old soul at bottom. He’d go through fire and water to serve young Master Charles.
Molly. With a vengeance! Poor young gentleman! he’s grown as melancholy as a willow tree: and no wonder: at four-and-twenty to be kept in leading-strings like a baby! But no good will come of it, see if there do; and I wish that Master Charles would give him the slip one of these days, on purpose to plague him. O, if I could but catch the old one doing any thing amiss—
Robin. Think kindlier of him, Molly; we’ll wait till we find him in a good humour, and then perhaps—
Molly. If we wait till then, Robin, you need be in no hurry to buy the wedding ring. Well, I’ll go.
Robin. Do; for after all ’twould do no good to anger him. And, Lord! if he were to see us here together!-Well, good bye, my dear Molly.
Molly. Good bye, Robin! (loitering) Good bye, Robin!
Robin. (Kisses her) Bless your little heart!
Enter, from the garden, Ignatius Polyglot,
with a book. Robin runs off.
Molly. O, crimini!