Punch. What have I done with it?
Judy. Aye; done with it! I heard it crying just now. Where is it?
Punch. How should I know?
Judy. I heard you make the pretty darling cry.
Punch. I dropped it out at window.
Judy. Oh, you cruel, horrid wretch, to drop the pretty baby out at window. Oh, (cries, and wipes her eyes) you barbarous man! Oh, I’ll make you pay for this, depend upon it. [Exit in haste.
Punch. There she goes. What a piece of work about nothing! (dances about and sings, beating time with his head, as he turns round, on the front of the stage.)
Re-enter Judy with a stick; she comes in behind, and hits Punch a sounding blow on the back of the head before he is aware.