Sir Fran. Thank you kindly, Mrs. Motherly.
Squ. Rich. Ods-flesh! what, is not it i'the hawse yet——I shall be famisht——but howld! I'll go and ask Doll, an there's none o'the goose poy left.
Sir Fran. Do so, and do'st hear, Dick——see if there's e'er a bottle o'th' strong beer that came i'th' coach with us——if there be, clap a toast in it, and bring it up.
Squ. Rich. With a little nutmeg and sugar, shawn't I, Feyther?
Sir Fran. Ay! ay! as thee and I always drink it for breakfast—Go thy ways!—--and I'll fill a pipe i'th' mean while. [Takes one from a Pocket-Case, and fills it.]
[Exit Squ. Rich.
Lady Wrong. This Boy is always thinking of his belly!
Sir Fran. Why my Dear, you may allow him to be a little hungry after his journey.
Lady Wrong. Nay, ev'n breed him your own way—He has been cramming in or out of the coach all this day I am sure—I wish my poor Girl could eat a quarter as much.