Off. Hum, I’ll swear it is a Calash—Mr. Clerk—Mr. Clerk, come back, come back. [Runs out to call him. He changes as before.
Enter Officer and Clerk.
—Come, Sir, let your own Eyes convince you, Sir.
Cler. Convince me, of what, you Sot?
Off. This is a Gentleman, and that a—ha— [Looks about on Har.
Cler. Stark drunk! Sirrah, if you trouble me at every Mistake of yours thus, you shall quit your Office.
Off. I beg your Pardon, Sir, I am a little in Drink I confess—a little blind and mad—Sir, —This must be the Devil, that’s certain.
[The Clerk goes out.
[Har. puts up his Calash again, and pulls off his Frock
and drives out.
—Well, now to my thinking, ‘tis as plain a Calash again as ever I saw in my Life, and yet I’m satisfy’d ‘tis nothing but a Cart.