Squ. _Rich._ Nay the moare the merrier, I say; but Sister is always so cross grain'd---- _Jenny._ Lord! this Boy is enough to deaf people----and one has really been stuft up in a Coach so long, that----Pray Madam----could not I get a little powder for my hair? _Myr._ If you please to come along with me, Madam. [_Exeunt ~Myr.~ and ~Jenny~._ Squ. _Rich._ What, has Sister ta'en her away naw! mess, I'll go and have a little game with 'em. [_Ex. after them._ Lady _Wrong._ Well, Count, I hope you won't so far change your lodgings, but you will come, and be at home here sometimes? Sir _Fran._ Ay, ay! pr'ythee come and take a bit of mutton with us, naw and tan, when thouh'st nowght to do. Count _Bas._ Well, Sir _Francis_, you shall find I'll make but very little ceremony. Sir _Fran._ Why ay naw, that's hearty! _Moth._ Will your Ladyship please to refresh yourself, with a dish of tea, after your fatigue? I think I have pretty good. Lady _Wrong._ If you please, Mrs. _Motherly_; but I believe we had best have it above stairs. _Moth._ Very well, Madam: it shall be ready immediately. [_Exit Mrs. ~Motherly~._ Lady _Wrong._ Won't you walk up, Sir? Sir _Fran._ _Moody!_ Count _Bas._ Shan't we stay for Sir _Francis_, Madam? Lady _Wrong._ Lard! don't mind him! he will come if he likes it. _Sir Fran._ Ay, ay! ne'er heed me----I ha' things to look after. [_Exeunt Lady ~Wrong.~ and ~Count Bas~._ _Enter ~John Moody~._ _John Moody._ Did you Worship want muh? Sir _Fran._ Ay, is the coach clear'd? and all our things in? _John Moody._ Aw but a few band-boxes, and the nook that's left o'th' goose poy----But a plague on him, th' Monkey has gin us the slip, I think----I suppose he's goon to see his relations; for here looks to be a power of 'um in this town----but heavy _Ralph_ is skawer'd after him. Sir _Fran._ Why, let him go to the Devil! no matter, and the hawnds had had him a month agoe----but I wish the coach and horses were got safe to th' Inn! This is a sharp tawn, we mun look about us here, _John_, therefore I would have you go alung with _Roger_, and see that nobody runs away with them before they get to their stable. _John Moody._ Alas-a-day, Sir: I believe our awld cattle woant yeasily be run away with to-night--but howsomdever, we'st ta' the best care we can of um, poor sawls. Sir _Francis._ Well, well! make hast then---- [_~Moody~ goes out, and returns._ _John Moody._ Ods Flesh! here's Master _Monly_ come to wait upo' your Worship! Sir _Fran._ Wheere is he? _John Moody._ Just coming in at threshould. Sir _Fran._ Then goa about your Business. [_Ex. ~Moody~._ _Enter ~Manly~._