Postboy. Zounds, master! I'm not he; there's the man that we thought was the rogue, and turns out to be one of the company.
Croaker. How!
Honeyw. Mr. Croaker, we have all been under a strange mistake here: I find there is nobody guilty; it was all an error; entirely an error of our own.
Croaker. And I say, sir, that you're in an error: for there's guilt, and double guilt; a plot, a damn'd jesuitical, pestilential plot; and I must have proof of it.
Honeyw. Do but hear me.
Croaker. What! you intend to bring 'em off, I suppose? I'll hear nothing.
Honeyw. Madam, you seem at least calm enough to hear reason.
Olivia. Excuse me.
Honeyw. Good Jarvis, let me then explain it to you.
Jarvis. What signifies explanation, when the thing is done?