er. How de do, Jim? I say, you couldn't give a feller a drink
of beer, could yer, Muncontour? It was precious wet last night, I can
tell you. 'Ad to stop for three hours at the Napolitum Embassy, when we
was a dancing. Me and some chaps went into Bob Parsom's and had a drain.
Old Cat came out and couldn't find her carriage, not by no means, could
she, Tommy? Blest if I didn't nearly drive her into a wegetable-cart.
I was so uncommon scruey! Who's this a-hentering at your pot-coshare?
Billy, my fine feller!

Clive Newcome (by the most singular coincidence). Madame la Princesse?

Lackey. We, munseer. (He rings a bell: the gentleman in black appears as
before on the landing-place up the stair.)

[Exit Clive.

Backystopper. I say, Bill: is that young chap often a-coming about here?
They'd run pretty in a curricle, wouldn't they? Miss N. and Master N.
Quiet, old woman! Jest look to that mare's ead, will you, Billy? He's
a fine young feller, that is. He gave me a covering the other night.
Whenever I sor him in the Park, he was always riding an ansum hanimal.
What is he? They said in our 'all he was a hartis. I can 'ardly think
that. Why, there used to be a hartis come to our club, and painted two
or three of my 'osses, and my old woman too.

Lackey. There's hartises and hartises, Backystopper. Why, there's some
on 'em comes here with more stars on their coats than Dukes has got.
Have you never 'eard of Mossyer Verny, or Mossyer Gudang?

Backystopper. They say this young gent is sweet on Miss N.; which, I
guess, I wish he may git it.

Tommy. He! he! he!

Backystopper. Brayvo, Tommy. Tom ain't much of a man for conversation,
but he's a precious one to drink. Do you think the young gent is sweet
on her, Tommy? I sor him often prowling about our 'ouse in Queen Street,
when we was in London.

Tommy. I guess he wasn't let in in Queen Street. I guess hour little
Buttons was very near turned away for saying we was at home to him--I
guess a footman's place is to keep his mouth hopen--no, his heyes
hopen--and his mouth shut. (He lapses into silence.)

Lackey. I think Thomis is in love, Thomis is. Who was that young woman I
saw you a-dancing of at the Showmier, Thomis? How the young Marquis was
a-cuttin' of it about there! The pleace was obliged to come up and stop
him dancing. His man told old Buzfuz upstairs, that the Marquis's
goings on is hawful. Up till four or five every mor