What shall I say to Sir Gregory?
Sir LUKE.
Any thing—what I told you before.
SERVANT.
And what to my Lord?
Sir LUKE.
What!—Why tell him that my uncle from Epsom—no—that won't do, for he knows I don't care a farthing for him—hey!—Why tell him—hold I have it—Tell him, that as I was going into my chair to obey his commands, I was arrested by a couple of bailiffs, forced into a hackney coach, and carried to the Py'd Bull in the Borough; I beg ten thousand pardons for making his grace wait, but his grace knows my misfor——
[Exit Sir Luke.
CHARLOT.
Well, Sir, what dy'e think of the proofs? I flatter myself I have pretty well established my case.