Fins. Yes, my lord—yes. Many thanks: and I have left your lordship’s dress here, and everybody’s dress, I believe, as bespoke.
Burs. Here, Finsbury, is the money for Wheeler, who, between you and me, is as poor as a rat.
Wheeler (affecting to laugh). Well, I hope I shall be as rich as a Jew to-morrow. (Bursal counts money, in an ostentatious manner, into Finsbury’s hand.)
Fins. A thousand thanks for all favours.
Rory. You will be kind enough to lave Mr. Talbot’s dress with me, Mr. Finsbury, for I’m a friend.
Fins. Indubitably, sir: but the misfortune is—he! he! he!—Mr. Talbot, sir, has bespoke no dress. Your servant, gentlemen.
(Exit Finsbury.)
Burs. So your friend Mr. Talbot could not afford to bespeak a dress—(Bursal and Wheeler laugh insolently.) How comes that, I wonder?
Lord J. If I’m not mistaken, here comes Talbot to answer for himself.
Rory. But who, in the name of St. Patrick, has he along with him?