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MORGAN.

Nay, Sir; not a morsel has been eaten by them: for they all love the poor youth as if he were kith and kin to every one of them.

BRUTON.

He is, indeed, a fine-spirited creature. In his father's closet, said you?

ROBINAIR.

And are any of the arms missing?

MORGAN.

Humphry says a light fowling-piece is gone; but he is not sure that Mr. Arden himself did not take it some time ago to be cleaned.

ROBINAIR.

And the old fool is afraid the child will blow out his brains with it.—Well, since thou hast no other intelligence than this, Morgan, go thy ways to thy supper. [Exit Morgan.] And let us move into the house also. See, the candles are lighted now in the parlour, and our cool tankard waits for us.

BRUTON.

With all my heart: we have been in this chill air long enough.

[Exeunt into the house.