The Plague Dogs1982

Don:
[Rowf and Snitter chase some sheep, hoping the shepherd will adopt them. The sheepdogs confront them] What the hell thee art playin' at? Art thou stark bloody mad, or what?

Snitter:
We just need a master!

Don:
Just need a master? Of all the... Art thou out of thy minds? chasing yows up and down fell, snapping and biting? Where's thy farm at? Where's thy master? Thou's bit yon yow, too, thou bastard! It's bleeding!

Rowf:
Lay off! You don't own this place!

Don:
Don't own it? Then I'd like to know who bloody does! Hey, Wag! It says we don't own this here fell!

Wag:
Bloody cheek! What do you reckon they're up to then?

Rowf:
What are *you* up to, then?

Don:
Gatherin', you daft sod! Seeking wooled sheep, of course! And then thee comes down like bloody bulls and spoil half an hour's good work!

Wag:
Ah, they be tourists! Thee, with yon patch on the head. Where's thy master at? [Snitter doesn't answer him] Has he been hurt, and thee run away?

Snitter:
We haven't a master. We thought... maybe your master...

Don:
He'll fill thee with leads he will. Worrying sheep!

Snitter:
We were only doing the same as you!

Williamson:
[Don and Wag's master appears] Don! Come-by here! Yer Wag! Come-by here!

Rowf:
We'd better get out of here.

Snitter:
They belonged where they were. You could smell it. No Whitecoat does anything to them. But what are *we* going to do, Rowf?