Petulant, speak.
PET. And you, sir.
SIR WIL. No offence, I hope? [Salutes MARWOOD.]
MRS. MAR. No, sure, sir.
WIT. This is a vile dog, I see that already. No offence? Ha, ha,
ha. To him, to him, Petulant, smoke him.
PET. It seems as if you had come a journey, sir; hem, hem.
[Surveying him round.]
SIR WIL. Very likely, sir, that it may seem so.
PET. No offence, I hope, sir?
WIT. Smoke the boots, the boots, Petulant, the boots; ha, ha, ha!
SIR WILL. Maybe not, sir; thereafter as 'tis meant, sir.
PET. Sir, I presume upon the information of your boots.
SIR WIL. Why, 'tis like you may, sir: if you are not satisfied
with the information of my boots, sir, if you will step to the
stable, you may enquire further of my horse, sir.
PET. Your horse, sir! Your horse is an ass, sir!
SIR WIL. Do you speak by way of offence, sir?
MRS. MAR. The gentleman's merry, that's all, sir. 'Slife, we shall
have a quarrel betwixt an horse and an ass, before they find one
another out.
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