[Exit.
Job. [Reaching a Book from the Table.] "Burn's Justice!"
Sir Simon. And how dare you take it up?
Job. Because you have laid it down. Read it a little better, and, then, I may respect you more.—There it is.
[Throws it on the Floor.
Enter Frank Rochdale.
Sir Simon. So, sir! prettily I am insulted on your account!
Frank. Good Heaven, sir! what is the matter?
Sir Simon. The matter! [Points to Job.] Lug that old bundle of brass out of my chair, directly.
[Frank casts his Eyes on Thornberry, then on the Ground, and stands abashed.