Scrub. Ay, sir, a plot, a horrid plot—First, it must be a plot, because there's a woman in't: secondly, it must be a plot, because there's a priest in't: thirdly, it must be a plot, because there's French gold in't: and fourthly, it must be a plot, because I don't know what to make on't.
Arch. Nor any body else, I'm afraid, brother Scrub.
Scrub. Truly I'm afraid so too; for where there's a priest and a woman, there's always a mystery and a riddle—This, I know, that here has been the doctor with a temptation in one hand, and an absolution in the other, and Gipsey has sold herself to the devil; I saw the price paid down, my eyes shall take their oath on't.
Arch. And is all this bustle about Gipsey?
Scrub. That's not all; I could hear but a word here and there; but I remember they mentioned a count, a closet, a back door, and a key.
Arch. The count! did you hear nothing of Mrs. Sullen?
Scrub. I did hear some word that sounded that way: but whether it was Sullen or Dorinda I could not distinguish.
Arch. You have told this matter to nobody, brother?
Scrub. Told! no, sir, I thank you for that; I'm resolved never to speak one word, pro nor con, till we have a peace.
Arch. You are i'the right, brother Scrub; here's a treaty a-foot between the count and the lady.—The priest and the chambermaid are plenipotentiaries——It shall go hard, but I'll find a way to be included in the treaty. Where's the doctor now?