MR. H.
Zounds, he is a poet; let him fancy a name.
[Exit Fourth Waiter.]
Enter Fifth Waiter.
FIFTH WAITER
Sir, Bartlemy the lame beggar, that you sent a private donation to last
Monday, has by some accident discovered his benefactor, and is at the
door waiting to return thanks.
MR. H. Oh, poor fellow, who could put it into his head? Now I shall be teazed by all his tribe, when once this is known. Well, tell him I am glad I could be of any service to him, and send him away.
FIFTH WAITER I would have done so, Sir; but the object of his call now, he says, is only to know who he is obliged to.
MR. H.
Why, me.
FIFTH WAITER
Yes, Sir.
MR. H.
Me, me, me, who else, to be sure?
FIFTH WAITER
Yes, Sir; but he is anxious to know the name of his benefactor.