6
'The devil I will, Sir?'
'I'll be damned if I do then—that I will.'
'Yes, you'll be damned if you do—that you will.'
'Let my horses go in the meantime, then, Sir, that I may proceed on my journey.'
'Nay.'
'Nay?—Dare you say nay to me, Sir? My name is George Dobson, of the Pleasance. Edinburgh, coach driver, and coach proprietor too; and I'll see the face of the man ⟨dammed⟩ who will say nay to me, as long as I can pay my way. I have his majasty's licence, and I'll go and come as I choose—and that I will. Let go my horses there, and say what is your demand.'
'Well, then, I'll let your horses go, said the keeper; but I'll keep yourself for a pledge.' And with that he let go the horses, and seized honest George by the throat, who struggled in vain to disengage himself, and cursed, swore, and threatened, by his own confession, most bloodily. His horses flew off like the wind, so swift that the coach was flying in the air, and scarcely touching on the earth once in a quarter of a mile, George was in furious wrath, for he saw that his grand coach and harness would all be broken to pieces, and his gallant palr of horses maimed or destroyed; and how was his family's bread to be won!—He struggled, swore, threatened, and prayed in vain;—the intolerable toll-man was deaf to all remonstrances. He once more appealed to his two genteel acquaintances of the law, reminding them how he had of late driven them to Roslin on a Sunday, along with two ladies, who, he supposed, were their sisters, from their familiarity, when not another coachman in (illegible text) ⟨would⟩ ⟨engange⟩ with them. But the gentlemen, very
