Farm. The matter is, young gentlemen, that there was once upon a time a fine, bay hunter.
Wheel. (squeezing up to Talbot, aside). Don’t expose me, don’t let him tell. (To the Farmer.) I’ll pay for the corn I spoiled. (To the Landlord.) I’ll pay for the horse.
Farm. I does not want to be paid for my corn. The short of it is, young gentlemen, this ’un here, in the fine thing-em-bobs (pointing to Wheeler), is a shabby fellow; he went and spoiled Master Newington’s best hunter.
Land. (panting). Ruinationed him! ruinationed him!
Rory. But was that all the shabbiness? Now I might, or any of us might, have had such an accident as that. I suppose he paid the gentleman for the horse, or will do so, in good time.
Land. (holding his sides). Oh, that I had but a little breath in this body o’ mine to speak all—speak on, Farmer.
Farm. (striking his stick on the floor). Oons, sir, when a man’s put out, he can’t go on with his story.
Omnes. Be quiet, Rory—hush!
(Rory puts his finger on his lips.)
Farm. Why, sir, I was a-going to tell you the shabbiness—why, sir, he did not pay the landlord, here, for the horse; but he goes and says to the landlord, here—“Mr. Talbot had your horse on the self-same day; ’twas he did the damage; ’tis from he you must get your money.” So Mr. Talbot, here, who is another sort of a gentleman (though he has not so fine a coat) would not see a man at a loss, that could not afford it; and not knowing which of ’em it was that spoiled the horse, goes, when he finds the other would not pay a farthing, and pays all.