[She falls upon him, holds his Hands, and boxes his Ears.
Esop. Help, help, help.
Enter Servants. She runs off, they after her.
Esop. Nay, e'en let her go——let her go——don't bring her back again——I'm for making a Bridge of Gold for my Enemy to retreat upon——I'm quite out of Breath——A terrible Woman, I protest.
Enter a Country Gentleman drunk, in a hunting Dress, with a Huntsman, Groom, Falconer, and other Servants; one leading a couple of Hounds, another Grey-Hounds, a third a Spaniel, a fourth a Gun upon his Shoulder, the Falconer a Hawk upon his Fist, &c.
Gent. Haux, haux, haux, haux, haux! Joular, there Boy, Joular, Joular, Tinker, Pedlar, Miss, Miss, Miss, Miss, Miss—Blood and Oons—O there he is; that must be he, I have seen his Picture [Reeling upon Esop].—Sir,—if your Name's Esop—I'm your humble Servant.
Esop. Sir, my Name is Esop, at your Service.
Gent. Why then, Sir—Compliments being past on both sides, with your leave—we'll proceed to Business. Sir, I'm by Profession—a Gentleman of—three thousand Pounds a Year—Sir, I keep a good Pack of Hounds, a good Stable of Horses. [To his Groom.] How many Horses have I, Sirrah?—Sir, this is my Groom.
[Presenting him to Esop.