Dor. You must go and get acquainted with his footman, and invite him hither to drink a bottle of your ale because you 're butler to-day. [95]
Scrub. Yes, madam, I am butler every Sunday.
Mrs. Sul. O' brave! sister, o' my conscience, you understand the mathematics already. 'Tis the best plot in the world: your mother, you know, will be gone to church, my spouse will be got to the ale-house with his scoundrels, and the house will be our own—so we drop in by accident, and ask the fellow some questions ourselves. In the country, you know, any stranger is company, and we're glad to take up with the butler in a country-dance, and happy if he 'll do us the favour. [106]
Scrub. O madam, you wrong me! I never refused your ladyship the favour in my life.
Enter Gipsy.
Gip. Ladies, dinner's upon table.
Dor. Scrub, we'll excuse your waiting—go where we ordered you.
Scrub. I shall. [Exeunt.