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Stir? Oh! you want this paper, do you? (feeling in his pockets). Where are my glasses?
Jumble. Yes, Zur—I dropt 'em out of my pocket,
Slir. Out of your pocket? I thought so— (feeling his own pockets quicker)—Where the plague are my spectacles—(to Jerry)—And pray what is it, Sir?
Jumble. It—It—It's a paper, Zur I
Stir. A paper, is it? ha.
Jumble. Yes, Zur! to certify my character, Zur!
Stir. Oh! It's your character; well, I hope it's a good one—but I've a strong suspicion that you're a great rogue, Jerry.
Jumble. Have you, by gom?
Slir. Where the devil are my spectacles— (in Stirling's hurry he flirts the Spectacles out of his pocket—Jumble picks them up, and taking them quickly out, returns him the case).—Death and f'uryl they,are not in the case: here Coz, you read it.
[Owing the paper to Mrs. Honeymouth. Jumble (aside). What the devil's to be done now? I have it: Clara's name is not mentioned, and she will believe it is intended for herself—(to Stirling)—Zur! I ha' found your spectacles— (Aside to Mrs. Honeymouth)—It's from Mr. Jumble—they must have dropped out of the case.
Stir, Oh! then I can read it myself.
Jumble. What the devil's to be done now?
Mrs. Honey, (looking at the paper). Dear me! a prescription—how careless, to have dropp'd it! I would not have lost it for the world.
Jumble (aside). Upon my soul I believe you (feeling in his pockets). Then what can become? Oh! dear, -dear, I ha' lost my character.
Stir. Cur^e me, if I think you ever had one to lose.
Mrs. Honey, (aside). Exquisite sensations—I protest this proof of his attachment quite over
Stir. I wish this Mr. Cypher was arrived from London: if he does but propose for Clara, all,my cares and fears will be over. Hey ] (seeing Jumble looking through the key-hole). What are you about, hey? looking for your character? get out of this house—begone, I tell you! they all connive to deceive me.
Jumble. If I deceive you, Zur, never trust me—
Stir. No, I never will trust you—I won't trust any body—I won't even trust myself. I'll keep one eye awake, while the other goes to sleep—I will—so be off—be off, I tell you.
Jumble. Your humble sarvant, Zur! [Exeunt.
"Enter Clara, looking for the Paper.
"Clara. No, it is not here—where can I "have dropt it? Should my father discover—I, "dread the thought, yet still I feel unable to re'' sist the impulse of affection fostered as mine "has been from infancy."
"But in the battle's rude alarms, ^ . "Wh n ev'ry danger flits around, •, "The thought of them his bosom warhhs, 'And foremost in the fight he's- fourid.
V No sighs, no tears, can then molest, ;'" :» • •. " For love with friendship thus combined} . "Still cheers a gallant seaman's breast, "Still animates a Briton's mind,
. • "-To fight for fame and glory/'
. [jjSxit Claba.
• . I . • . )•.•.!i••'
Quill. Bless my soul !—I wonder what Mr. Jumble will do next—he has just refused to Insert a paragraph, because, he says, 'tis false and scandalous —I wonder where he'll find readers, if he prints nothing but truth and morality—(a crask).—What the deuce is that?
Cypher (without). That's it—that's right— (Enters with Jerry Blossom, carrying a large Bundle of Papers)—that's prime!—that's bang up! ...
Jerry. Yes, but just now you came bang down.
Cypher. Never mind—it's prime. >''
Jerry. Why! be it, tho'?
Cypher. To be sure, if I hadn't turned the leader neatly over the old woman—I should have dash'd neck and crop into the china shop—(to Quill)—Here, help me off with my Benjamin — I say, do you know whereabouts a man of the name of Jumble lives in this town?
Quill. Yes! in this house.
Cypher. That's lucky—(to Jerry)—Set down that infernal load, it belongs to him—(to Quill J —Pray, Sir! who are you?
Quill. Who ami? I'll tell you what, young fellow, I shou'dn't wonder if you were to be discharged for this flourish—
Jerry. Aye—and if you call driving over posts and old women prime, hang me if I think you'll ever get another place. So you'd better make the best of a bad matter, and help your fellow sarvant to set tackle in order again—there be one o'th sharps broke all to shivers, and as you be coachman, you know—
Cypher. Discharged! and fellow servant! Why spoonies—sawnies—clods, have you the superlative ignorance and impudence to mistake Richard Cypher, Esq. Attorney and Solicitor, for a Servant?
Jerry. To be sure. Didn't you sit cheek by jowl, and take all the trouble, while he sat at his ease, and chatter'd to you as if you were his groom?
Cypher. What the devil then ! - do you suppose I let my coachman drive me?
Quill.. If not, why did you hire him?
Cypher. Hey! that's a poser, a proper setter— d—n me if I know, though I've studied the law.
Jerry. I'll tell you what, my lad, though we be country folks, we're not to be hum'd. Fine London gentlemen don't demean themselves to do sarvant's work; or if they do take a bit of a drive
now and then for pleasure or exercise, like
you won't make us believe they clap on a livery like that to do it in.
Cypher. A livery! Confusion and consternation! A livery ! — the honourable Uniform of the "Neck or Nothing." A livery! Have I left the practice of the Courts to practise driving, and after unwearied attention, to become a prime whip, instead of a prime lawyer —only arrived at the honourable distinction of being mistaken for a coachman.
Jerry. Why, be'ant you, tho'?
Cypher. Be'ant I, spooney?
Quill. Sir, I beg pardon. I see the error, and hope you'll forgive it; but when gentlemen associate with their servants, talk like their servants, do their servant's work, and dress like their servants; they ought not to be offended at a stranger's not knowing the master from the man.
Cypher (aside}. That fellow's Prime!—he must have studied the law.
Jerry. Well, Zur, and if you ha' studied the law, 'tis my fancy you can drive a better trade at that any time, I assure you, Zur; for I never saw any body drive worse—never: I don't flatter, Zur.
Cypher. No, d—me if you do (aside). Primely I should be rated, if this were known at the Club. Ignorant sawney! drive bad indeed! Let me tell you, sirrah, I'm prime—I am one of the best whips in town.