Gent. 'Tis well, and you have learn'd to write a bad hand, that the Readers may take pains for it.
Luc. Yes Sir, and I give out I have the palsie.
Gent. Good, 'twere better though, if you had it: your Lordship hath a Secretary, that can write fair, when you purpose to be understood.
Luc. 'Faith Sir I have one, there he stands, he hath been my Secretary these seven years, but he hath forgotten to write.
Gen. If he can make a writing face, it is not amiss, so he keep his own counsel: your Lordship hath no hope of the Gout?
Luc. Uh, little Sir, since the pain in my right foot left me.
Gent. 'Twill be some scandal to your wisdom, though I see your Lordship knows enough in publick business.
Luc. I am not imploy'd (though to my desert) in occasions forreign, nor frequented for matters domestical.
Gent. Not frequented? what course takes your Lordship?
Luc. The readiest way, my door stands wi[de], my Secretary knows I am not denied to any.