Dot. It was thought I laid her on as well as another, for you may remember she was a bitter one, and she provoked me some six or seven drubs beyond what the poet writ for her.
Sev. Well, look you, Will, I design greater things for you than any poet of them all; why, you shall act a ghost in the ensuing play.
Dot. A ghost of me! No, it can never be.
Sev. Yes, yes, you oaf, you shall be a country ghost. You shall come to the country gentleman who lay here last night in the figure of his deceased brother, a fat justice of the peace, who left all his money in his hands—and he cheats him. Why, I don't know but you may be the luckiest ghost that ever appeared. Who knows but the old rascal may repent and pay you? If he does I'm sure you'll take it.
Dot. Nay, nay, there's no doubt of that. What has the poor money done? I will take it, as you say.
Sev. Look you there: when you have done this part you are a most accomplished player, you have gone through all the degrees of action. You came out of the parsley-bed, as they say to the children; you have been everything——
Dot. A ghost! I shall never be sober enough. What if it be a country ghost—yet every man is serious after his death. I shall certainly laugh, and discover all.
Sev. Well, bid him they call Dicky come to me.
Dot. Dicky, Dicky, come to me; come, Dicky, come to Mr. Severn. I am not a ghost yet; you need not be afraid.