Man. So they bring all their baggage with the coach then?
John Moody. Ay, ay, and good store on't there is——Why my lady's geer alone were as much as fill'd four portmantel trunks, besides the great deal-box, that heavy Ralph and the monkey sit upon behind.
Lord Town, Lady Grace, and Man. Ha! ha, ha!
Lady Grace. Well, Mr. Moody, and pray how many are they within the coach?
John Moody. Why there's my Lady and his Worship; and the younk squoire, and Miss Jenny, and the fat lap-dog, and my lady's maid, Mrs. Handy, and Doll Tripe the cook, that's all——Only Doll puked a little with riding backward, so they hoisted her into the coach-box—and then her stomach was easy.
Lady Grace. Oh! I see 'em! I see 'em go by me. Ah! ha!
[Laughing.
John Mood. Then you mun think, measter, there was some stowage for the belly, as well as th' back too; such cargoes of plumb-cake, and baskets of tongues, and biscuits and cheese, and cold boil'd beef——And then in case of sickness, bottles of cherry-brandy, plague-water, sack, tent and strong-beer so plenty as made th' owld coach crack again! Mercy upon them! and send 'em all well to town, I say.
Man. Ay! And well out on't again, John.
John Mood. Ods bud! measter, you're a wise mon; and for that matter, so am I—Whoam's whoam, I say: I'm sure we got but little good, e'er sin' we turn'd our backs on't. Nothing but mischief! Some Devil's trick or other plagued us, aw th' dey lung! Crack goes one thing: Bawnce! goes another. Woa, says Roger——Then souse! we are all set fast in a slough, Whaw! cries Miss! Scream go the maids! and bawl! just as thof' they were stuck! and so, mercy on us! this was the trade from morning to night. But my Lady was in such a murrain haste to be here, that set out she would, thof' I told her it was Childermas day.