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SIR ANTHONY ABSOLUTE.
COACHMAN crosses the stage.—Enter Fay, looking after
him. What! Thomas! Sure 'tis he!- What! Thomas ! Thomas !
Coachm. Hey! odd's life!--Mr. Fag! give us your hand,
old fellow servant ! Fag. Excuse my glove, Thomas; I'm devilish glad to see you, my lad! why, my prince of charioteers, you look as hearty!—but who the deuce thought of seeing you in Bath?
Coachm. Sure, Master, Madanı Julia, Harry, Mrs. Kate, and the postillion, be all come.
Coachm. Ay: master thought another fit of the gout was coming to make him a visit, so he'd a mind to g'it the slip,--and whip! we were all off at an hour's warning.
Fag. Ay, ay; hasty in every thing, or it would not be Sir Anthony Absolute. Coachm. But tell us, Mr. Fag, how does young
Master? Odd, Sir Anthony will stare, to see the Captain here!
Pag. I do not serve Captain Absolute now.