Irishm.

Be me tro, mester, Ise poor Irisman, Ise want ludging. Ise have no mony, Ise starve and

cold: good master give hur some meat; Ise famise and tye.

Host.

'Faith, fellow, I have no lodging, but what I keep for my guests. As for meat, thou shalt have as much as there is; and if thou wilt lie in the barn, there's fair straw, and room enough.

Irishm.

Ise tank my mester heartily.

Host.

Ho, Robin.

Rob.

Who calls?

Host.

Shew this poor Irishman to the barn; go sirrah.

Car.

Who's within here? who looks to the horses? Uds heart, here's fine work; the hens in the maunger, and the hogs in the litter. A bots 'found you all; here's a house well look'd to, i'faith.

Kate.

Mas gaff Club, Ise very cawd.

Car.

Get in, Kate, get in to fire, and warm thee. John ostler.

Host.
What, gaffer Club! Welcome to St. Albans.
How does all our friends in Lancashire? Enter Ostler.

Car.

Well, God-a-mercy. John, how does Tom? where is he?

Ostl.

Tom's gone from hence; he's at the three horse-loaves^{7 note} at Stony-Stratford. How does old Dick Dun?

Car.

Uds heart, old Dun has bin moyr'd in a slough in Brick-hill-lane. A plague 'found it! yonder's such abomination weather as was never seen.

Ostl.

Uds heart! Thief! 'a shall have one half peck of pease and oats more for that, as I am John ostler; he has been ever as good a jade as ever travelled.

Car.

'Faith, well said, old Jack; thou art the old lad still.

Ostl.

Come, gaffer Club, unload, unload, and get to supper.