BOLT. (Aside.) My head would follow, I’m thinking.—No, I can see.
NEW. That’s right. There go the spoons—there’s the salver—there’s the god-papa’s mug.
BOLT. Yes, we are in for the plate.
NEW. Ho, ho! you call that a joke?
BOLT. (Aside.) More than I do anything else. If I am caught with this fellow, I shall be hanged; and if I move, I shall be shot.
NEW. Don’t mumble, but pack, pack!
Enter CUTAWAY, HARRIET, COTTON, MISS BROWN, and MRS. STITCHLEY, L. H.
COT. My dear Mr. Cutaway, you should have explained to me you were the son of the great bobbin-maker, and my ideas on the subject would have been very different.—Come, ladies, if you can find your way in the dark. I have just discharged my servants, and am forced to wait on myself.
(Goes to closet, R.H. for match-box, &c.)
NEW. There’s some one in the room—we are in the wrong box. Put up that cup!