Sav. Ridiculous!—But, how are you certain that the Woman who has so bewildered you, belongs to Lord George?
Doric. Flutter told me so.
Sav. Then fifty to one against the intelligence.
Doric. It must be so. There was a mystery in her manner, for which nothing else can account. [A violent rap.] Who can this be? [Saville looks out.]
Sav. The proverb is your answer—'tis Flutter himself. Tip him a scene of the Mad-man, and see how it takes.
Doric. I will—a good way to send it about town. Shall it be of the melancholy kind, or the raving?
Sav. Rant!—rant!—Here he comes.
Doric. Talk not to me who can pull comets by the beard, and overset an island!
Enter Flutter.
There! This is he!—this is he who hath sent my poor soul, without coat or breeches, to be tossed about in ether like a duck-feather! Villain, give me my soul again!