T. So I guess, sir; but if letters be purposely thrown open on the ground, they may be read by those for whom they were not intended.
N. Give it to me. ’Tis mine.
T. I see no sign of that, sir, unless you will say that everything which the ladies let fall belongs to you.
N. No impertinence, man: give it me at once.
T. Nay; I have my duty. This belongs to my master. I shall guard it for him.
N. I tell you ’tis mine.
T. So you said of Lady Laura’s glove.
N. That has nothing to do with it. Give me the paper.
T. Not till ’tis proved to be yours, sir: which can never be.
N. I tell you, Tristram, that I wrote it myself.