_Sir Geo._ Avast, old man of war; you must instantly convoy my son from Portsmouth. _John._ Then I must first convoy him to Portsmouth, for he happens to be out of the dock already. _Sir Geo._ What wind now? _John._ You know, on our quitting harbour-- _Sir Geo._ Damn your sea jaw, you marvellous dolphin, give the contents of your logbook in plain English. _John._ The young squire has cut and run. _Sir Geo._ What? _John._ Got leave to come to you: and master didn't find out before yesterday, that, instead of making for home, he had sheer'd off towards London; directly sent notice to you, and Sam has traced us all the way here to bring you the news. _Sir Geo._ What, a boy of mine quit his guns? I'll grapple him.--Come, John. _Lady Am._ Order the carriage for mine uncle. _Sir Geo._ No, thank ye, my lady. Let your equipage keep up your own dignity. I have horses here; but I won't knock 'em up; next village is the channel for the stage--My lady, I'll bring the dog to you by the bowsprit.--Weigh anchor! crowd sail! and after him! [_Exit._ _Enter_ EPHRAIM. [_Peeping in._] _Eph._ The man of noise doth not tarry, then my spirit is glad. _Lady Am._ Let Sarah prepare chambers for my kinsman, and hire the maiden for me that thou didst mention. _Eph._ I will; for this damsel is passing fair, and hath found grace in mine eyes. Mary, as thou art yet a stranger in this land, and just taken possession of this estate, the laws of society command thee to be on terms of amity with thy wealthy neighbours. _Lady Am._ Yea; but while I entertain the rich, the hearts of the poor shall also rejoice; I myself will now go forth into the adjacent hamlet, and invite all that cometh, to hearty cheer. _Eph._ Yea, I will distribute among the poor good books. _Lady Am._ And meat and drink too, friend Ephraim. In the fulness of plenty, they shall join in thanksgiving for those gifts of which I am so unworthy. [_Exeunt._ SCENE II. _A Road._ _Enter_ HARRY THUNDER, _and_ MIDGE _follows, calling_. _Midge._ I say, Dick Buskin! harkye, my lad! _Harry._ What keeps Rover? _Midge._ I'm sure I don't know. As you desired, I paid for our breakfast. But the devil's in that fellow; every inn we stop at, he will always hang behind, chattering to the bar-maid, or chambermaid. _Harry._ Or any, or no maid. But he's a worthy lad; and I love him better, I think, than my own brother, had I one. _Midge._ Oh! but, Dick, mind, my boy. _Harry._ Stop, Midge. Though 'twas my orders, when I set out on this scamper with the players, (the better to conceal my quality,) for you, before people, to treat me as your companion; yet, at the same time, you should have had discretion enough to remember, when we're alone, that I am still your master, and son to Sir George Thunder. _Midge._ Sir, I ask your pardon; but by making yourself my equal, I've got so used to familiarity, that I find it curst hard to shake it off.