Mrs. H. He hurts nothing; not the worm in his way.
Sol. That he does not.
Mrs. H. He troubles no one.
Sol. True! true!
Mrs. H. Well, what do you want more?
Sol. I want to know who he is. If the man would only converse a little, one might have an opportunity of pumping; but if one meets him in the lime walk, or by the river, it is nothing but—"Good morrow;"—and off he marches. Once or twice I have contrived to edge in a word—"Fine day."—"Yes."—"Taking a little exercise, I perceive."—"Yes:"—and off again like a shot. The devil take such close fellows, say I. And, like master like man; not a syllable do I know of that mumps his servant, except that his name is Francis.
Mrs. H. You are putting yourself into a passion, and quite forget who are expected.
Sol. So I do—Mercy on us!—There now, you see what misfortunes arise from not knowing people.
Mrs. H. 'Tis near twelve o'clock already! If his lordship has stolen an hour from his usual sleep, the family must soon be here. I go to my duty; you will attend to yours, Mr. Solomon.
[Exit.