News!

MR G. Ha! Steward, how are you, my old boy? How do things go on at home?

STEWARD. Bad enough, your honour; the magpie's dead!

MR G. Poor mag! so he's gone. How came he to die?

STEWARD. Overate himself, sir.

MR G. Did he indeed? A greedy dog. Why, what did he get that he liked so well?

STEWARD. Horseflesh; he died of eating horseflesh.

MR G. How came he to get so much horseflesh?

STEWARD. All your father's horses, sir.

MR G. What! are they dead, too?

STEWARD. Aye, sir; they died of overwork.

MR G. And why were they overworked?

STEWARD. To carry water, sir.

MR G. To carry water, and what were they carrying water for?

STEWARD. Sure, sir, to put out the fire.

MR G. Fire! what fire?

STEWARD. Your father's house is burned down to the ground.

MR G. My father's house burnt down! and how came it to be on fire?

STEWARD. I think sir, it must have been the torches.

MR G. Torches! what torches?

STEWARD. At your mother's funeral.

MR G. My mother dead?

STEWARD. Aye, poor lady, she never looked up after it.

MR G. After what?

STEWARD. The loss of your father.

MR G. My father gone, too?

STEWARD. Yes, poor gentleman, he took to his bed as soon as he heard of it.

MR G. Heard of what?

STEWARD. The bad news, an' it please your honour.

MR G. What? more miseries, more bad news!

STEWARD. Yes, sir, your bank has failed, your credit is lost and you're not worth a shilling in the world. I make bold, sir, to come and wait on you about it; for I thought you would like to hear the news.