Sergeant: I don’t want it. Bring it with you.
Policeman B: You might want it. There are clouds coming up and you have the darkness of the night before you yet. I’ll leave it over here on the barrel. (Goes to barrel.)
Sergeant: Bring it with you I tell you. No more talk.
Policeman B: Well, I thought it might be a comfort to you. I often think when I have it in my hand and can be flashing it about into every dark corner (doing so) that it’s the same as being beside the fire at home, and the bits of bogwood blazing up now and again.
(Flashes it about, now on the barrel, now on Sergeant.)
Sergeant: (Furious.) Be off the two of you, yourselves and your lantern!
(They go out. Man comes from behind barrel. He and Sergeant stand looking at one another.)
Sergeant: What are you waiting for?
Man: For my hat, of course, and my wig. You wouldn’t wish me to get my death of cold?
(Sergeant gives them.)