Tom. Yes, sir; now I remember, as we came away in the hackney coach from Mr. Sealand's, Tom, says he, as I came in to your master this morning, he bade you go for an answer to a letter he had sent. Pray did you bring him any? says he. Ah! says I, sir, your honour is pleased to joke with me; you have a mind to know whether I can keep a secret or no?
Bev. And so, by showing him you could, you told him you had one?
Tom. Sir——[Confused.
Bev. What mean actions does jealousy make a man stoop to! How poorly has he used art with a servant to make him betray his master!—Well! and when did he give you this letter for me?
Tom. Sir, he writ it before he pulled off his lawyer's gown, at his own chambers.
Bev. Very well; and what did he say when you brought him my answer to it?
Tom. He looked a little out of humour, sir, and said it was very well.
Bev. I knew he would be grave upon't; wait without.
Tom. Hum! 'gad, I don't like this; I am afraid we are all in the wrong box here. [Exit Tom.