_Sim._ Oh, feyther, here's one Mr. Lamp, a ring-leader of showfolks come from Andover to act in our village. He wants a barn to play in, if you'll hire him yourn. _F. Gam._ Surely, boy. I'll never refuse money. But, lest he should engage the great room in the inn, run thou and tell him--Stop, I'll go myself--A short cut through that garden.-- _Banks._ Why you, or any neighbour is welcome to walk in it, or to partake of what it produces, but making it a common thoroughfare is-- _F. Gam._ Here, Sim, kick open that garden gate. _Banks._ What? _F. Gam._ Does the lad hear? _Sim._ Why yes, yes. _F. Gam._ Does the fool understand. _Sim._ Dang it, I'm as yet but young; but if understanding teaches me how to wrong my neighbour, I hope I may never live to years of discretion. _F. Gam._ What, you cur, do you disobey your feyther? Burst open the garden gate, as I command you. _Sim._ Feyther, he, that made both you and the garden, commands me not to injure the unfortunate. _F. Gam._ Here's an ungracious rogue! Then I must do it myself. [_Advances._] _Banks._ [_Stands before it._] Hold, neighbour. Small as this spot is, it's now my only possession: and the man shall first take my life, who sets a foot in it against my will. _F. Gam._ I'm in such a passion.-- _Jane._ [_Comes forward._] Feyther, if you're in a passion, read the good book you gave me. _F. Gam._ Plague of the wench! But, you hussey, I'll--and you, you unlucky bird! [_Exit_ SIM _and_ JANE. [_A shower of rain._]--_Enter_ ROVER _hastily_. _Rover._ Zounds! here's a pelting shower, and no shelter! "Poor Tom's a-cold;" I'm wet through--Oh, here's a fair promising house. [_Going to Gammon's._] _F. Gam._ [_Stops him._] Hold, my lad. Can't let folks in, till I know who are they. There's a public house not above a mile on. _Banks._ Step in here, young man; my fire is small, but it shall cheer you with a hearty welcome. _Rover._ [_To_ BANKS.] The poor cottager! [_To_ GAMMON.] And the substantial farmer! [_Kneels._] "Hear, Nature, dear goddess, hear! If ever you designed to make his corn-fields fruitful, change thy purpose; that, from the blighted ear no grain may fall to fat his _stubble goose_--and, when to town he drives his hogs, so like himself, oh, let him feel the soaking rain; then may he curse his crime too late, and know how sharper than a serpent's tooth 'tis"--Damme, but I'm spouting in the rain all this time. [_Jumps up, and runs into_ BANKS'S. _F. Gam._ Ay, neighbour, you'll soon scratch a beggar's head, if you harbour every mad vagrant. This may be one of the footpads, that, it seems, have got about the country; but I'll have an execution, and seize on thy goods, this day, my charitable neighbour! Eh, the sun strikes out, quite cleared up. _Enter_ JANE. _Jane._ La, feyther, if there is'nt coming down the village-- _F. Gam._ Ah, thou hussey!