Doct. What was that struck me?
Scar. Struck you, Sir! Imagination.
Doct. Can my Imagination feel, Sirrah?
Scar. Oh, the most tenderly of any part about one, Sir!
Doct. Hum—that may be.
Scar. Are you a great Philosopher, and know not that, Sir?
Doct. This Fellow has a glimpse of Profundity. [Aside. Looks again. —I like the Figures well.
Scar. You will, when you see ‘em by Day-light, Sir.
[Har. hits him again. The Doctor sees him.
Doct. Ha,—Is that Imagination too?—Betray’d, betray’d, undone! run for my Pistols, call up my Servants, Peter, a Plot upon my Daughter and my Niece!