Punch. And who sent for you?
Constable. I am sent for you.
Punch. I don’t want constable. I can settle my own business without constable, I thank you. I don’t want constable.
Constable. But the constable wants you.
Punch. The dickens he does! What for, pray?
Constable. You killed Mrs. Punch. You knocked her head off her shoulders.
Punch. What’s that to you? If you stay here much longer, I’ll serve you the same.
Constable. Don’t tell me. You have committed murder, and I’ve a warrant for you.
Punch. And I’ve a warrant for you. (Punch knocks him down, and dances and sings about the stage, to the tune of “Green grow the Rushes O.”)
Enter an Officer, in a cocked hat with a cockade, and a long pigtail.