"Quiet, Vick! Hang thy neck, what's a matter? Eh! the pear-tree? It's the thief again—and before the fruit's ripe. Bodikins! but we'll catch thee now, 'r lady. We'll have a thong out of his hide; split me, if we ha'n't!"
The men approached as cautiously as their condition would permit; while Anthony, overhearing the latter part of their dialogue, sat somewhat insecurely on his perch.
"Dan, get th' big cudgel out o' t' barn. I see a some'at black like, an' fearsome, i' th' tree."
Probably they had imbibed courage with their liquor, otherwise the black "somewhat" in the tree might have indisposed them for this daring attack.
"I'll have a blow at it, be't mon or devil, hang me."
Anthony pulled his cloak tightly about him; and while the weapon was providing he entertained serious thoughts of surrendering at discretion; but the effect which this premature disclosure might have on his mistress's determination towards him retarded the discovery; and he was not without hope of eluding the drunken valour of the brutes.
"Now gie't me, Dan—Tol de rol—
'An' back and sides go bare, go bare.'"
Approaching to the attack, Barnaby brandished his cudgel to the time and tune of this celebrated alehouse ditty. The concluding flourish brought the weapon waving within a very concise distance of the goodly person of Master Anthony Hardcastle.
"Murder!—Villains!" cried the terrified lover, unable to endure the menacing aspect of this fearful invader; "I'm Master Anthony, ye sots, ye unthrifts—your master, is to be; and I—I'll have ye i' the stocks for this."