[Thrusts him out.
There's a rogue now, that sends me three lean carrion birds, and brings half a dozen varlets to eat them.
Enter Mr. Griffard.
Griff. Brother, what is the meaning of these doings? If you don't order your affairs better, you'll have your fowls taken out of your very yard, and carried away before your face.
Mr. Barn. Can I help it, brother? But what's the matter now?
Griff. There's a parcel of fellows have been hunting about your grounds all this morning, broke down your hedges, and are now coming into your house——don't you hear them?
Mr. Barn. No, no, I don't hear them: who are they?
Griff. Three or four rake-helly officers, with your nephew at the head of 'em.
Mr. Barn. O the rogue! he might well send me fowls——but is it not a vexatious thing, that I must stand still and see myself plunder'd at this rate, and have a carrion of a wife who thinks I ought to thank all these rogues that come to devour me! but can't you advise me what's to be done in this case?
Griff. I wish I cou'd; for it goes to my heart to see you thus treated by a crew of vermin, who think they do you a great deal of honour in ruining of you.