Talb. I tell you it was this time last year, man, that I was mounted upon a fine bay hunter, out a-hunting.
Farm. Zooks! would you argufy a man out of his wits? You won’t go for to tell me that you are that impertinent little jackanapes!
Talb. No! no! I’ll not tell you that I am an impertinent little jackanapes!
Farm. (wiping his forehead). Well, don’t then, for I can’t believe it; and you put me out. Where was I?
Talb. Mounted upon a fine bay hunter.
Farm. Ay, so he was. “Here, you,” says he, meaning me—“open this gate for me.” Now, if he had but a-spoke me fair, I would not have gainsaid him: but he falls to swearing, so I bid him open the gate for himself. “There’s a bull behind you, farmer,” says he. I turns. “Quizzed him!” cries my jackanapes, and off he gallops him, through the very thick of my corn; but he got a fall, leaping the ditch out yonder, which pacified me, like, at the minute. So I goes up to see whether he was killed; but he was not a whit the worse for his tumble. So I should ha’ fell into a passion with him then, to be sure, about my corn; but his horse had got such a terrible sprain, I couldn’t say anything to him; for I was a-pitying the poor animal. As fine a hunter as ever you saw! I am sartain sure he could never come to good after.
Talb. (aside). I do think, from the description, that this was Wheeler; and I have paid for the horse which he spoiled! (Aloud.) Should you know either the man or the horse again, if you were to see them?
Farm. Ay, that I should, to my dying day.
Talb. Will you come with me, then, and you’ll do me some guineas’ worth of service?
Farm. Ay, that I will, with a deal of pleasure; for you be a civil spoken young gentleman; and, besides, I don’t think the worse on you for being frighted a little about your mother; being what I might ha’ been, at your age, myself; for I had a mother myself once. So lead on, master.