Enter Archer.
Arch. 'Sdeath! I had forgot—what title will you give yourself?
Aim. My brother's, to be sure: he would never give me any thing else, so I'll make bold with his honour this bout. You know the rest of your cue.
Arch. Ay, ay. [Exit.
Enter Gibbet.
Gib. Sir, I'm yours.
Aim. 'Tis more than I deserve, sir; for I don't know you.
Gib. I don't wonder at that, sir, for you never saw me before——I hope. [Aside.
Aim. And pray, sir, how came I by the honour of seeing you now?
Gib. Sir, I scorn to intrude upon any gentleman—but my landlord—