Punch. I’m glad to hear it. Poor Toby! What a nice, good-tempered dog it is! No wonder his master is so fond of him.
Toby (snarls). Arr! Arr!
Punch. What! Toby! you cross this morning? You got out of bed the wrong way upwards?
Toby (snarls again). Arr! Arr!
Punch. Poor Toby! (putting his hand out cautiously, and trying to coax the dog, who snaps at it) Toby, you’re one nasty, cross dog; get away with you! (strikes at him.)
Toby. Bow, wow, wow! (seizing Punch by the nose.)
Punch. Oh, dear! oh, dear! My nose! my poor nose, my beautiful nose! Get away! get away, you nasty dog—I tell your master. Oh, dear, dear! Judy! Judy!
(Punch shakes his nose, but cannot shake off the Dog, who follows him as he retreats around the stage. He continues to call, “Judy! Judy, my dear!” until the Dog quits his hold, and exit.)