He has nothing to say to him at all. He is very angry with your massa.
SANCHO.
Very angry! Ay, my massa be poor, and every body be angry wit him.—Your massa not angry, your massa very fond of him when he shake a te dice, and take all te money from him. Te tevil will shake him over te great fire for tat.—You tell him, he be in prison; he be cold; he be hungry?
DICKENSON.
I told him every thing you desired me, but he has nothing to say to you. He is very angry, and wont see you.
SANCHO.
Angry! Wont see me! He shall see me. I watch him; I speak to him; I deal wit him. Angry! White man angry! Black man angry too. (Going.)
DICKENSON.
Stay a little: he sent this for yourself to pay your way back again to London. (Offering him money, which he scornfully casts away.)
