Sir Fran. Hold your tongue, Jenny!—--Was Roger in no fault, in all this?
John Moody. Noa, Sir, nor I, noather——are not yow asheam'd, says Roger to the carter, to do such an unkind thing by strangers? Noa, says he, you Bumkin. Sir, he did the thing on very purpose! and so the folks said that stood by—Very well, says Roger, yow shall see what our Meyster will say to ye! Your Meyster? says he; your Meyster may kiss my—and so he clapt his hand just there, and like your Worship. Flesh! I thought they had better breeding in this tawn.
Sir Fran. I'll teach this rascal some, I'll warrant him! Odsbud! if I take him in hand, I'll play the Devil with him.
Squ. Rich. Ay do, Feyther; have him before the Parliament.
Sir Fran. Odsbud! and so I will——I will make him know who I am! Where does he live?
John Moody. I believe, in London, Sir.
Sir Fran. What's the Rascal's name!
John Moody. I think I heard somebody call him Dick.
Squ. Rich. What, my name!