Simon: All that was in the crock and that I took from it. Where now is my bag of gold?
Staffy: Do you hear what he is after saying?
Ralph: A lad of that sort will not be safe but in the gaol. Let us give him into the grip of the law.
Delia: No, but let the man owned it do that.
Staffy: So he can task him with it, and he drawing to the door.
Delia: (Going to it.) It is time for you, Patrick, come in.
(Damer comes in dragging a sack.)
Ralph: You are after being robbed and left bare.
Delia: Not a one penny left of all you have cast into its mouth.
Ralph: Herself made a prophecy you would be robbed with the weakening of your wits, and sure enough it has come about.