Wid. Yes, there is an owl, sir.
Old. He's an ungracious bird indeed.
Wid. But go, thou trangame,[116] and carry back those trangames, which thou hast stolen or purloined; for nobody would trust a minor in Westminster Hall, sure.
Jer. Hold yourself contented, forsooth: I have these commodities by a fair bargain and sale; and there stands my witness and creditor.
Wid. How's that? What sir, d'ye think to get the mother by giving the child a rattle?—But where are my bags, my writings, you rascal?
Jer. O, la! where are they, indeed! [Aside.
Wid. How, sirrah? speak, come—
Man. You can tell her, Freeman, I suppose. [Apart to him.
Free. 'Tis true, I made one of your salt-water sharks steal 'em whilst he was eagerly choosing his commodities, as he calls 'em, in order to my design upon his mother. [Apart to him.