Sell. Miss has sent me up;--dinner is on the table.
Reiss. Come, gentlemen.
Sell. You have won the day.
Reiss. Undoubtedly.
Sell. I wish you joy.
Reiss. Now here is the Privy Counsellor, who puzzles his head about some talk concerning the will.
Sell. Ah, that should not puzzle me.
Reiss. Beati possidentes! Either, or--
P. Coun. Or!---there is the rub.