Enter Doubledot and Simon, L.[5]
Doubledot. Plague take Mr. Paul Pry! He is one of those idle, meddling fellows, who, having no employment themselves, are perpetually interfering in other people’s affairs.
Simon. Ay, and he’s inquisitive into all matters, great and small.
Doub. Inquisitive! Why, he makes no scruple of questioning you respecting your most private concerns. Then he will weary you to death with a long story about a cramp in his leg, or the loss of a sleeve-button, or some such idle matter. And so he passes his days, “dropping in,” as he calls it, from house to house at the most unreasonable times, to the annoyance of every family in the village. But I’ll soon get rid of him.
Enter Pry, L., with umbrella, which he places against the wall.
Pry. Ha! how d’ye do, Mr. Doubledot?
Doub. Very busy, Mr. Pry, and have scarcely time to say, “Pretty well, thank ye.” (Turns from him as if writing in memorandum book. Simon advances.)
Pry. Ha, Simon! you here? Rather early in the morning to be in a public house. Been taking a horn, eh? Sent here with a message from your master, perhaps? I say, Simon, when this wedding takes place, I suppose your master will put you all into new liveries, eh?
Simon. Can’t say, sir.
Pry. Well, I think he might. (Touches Simon’s sleeve.) Between ourselves, Simon, it won’t be before you want ’em, eh?