HUNDS. But to a rustic savage of a servant.
POM. Good! Take thy sheep’s face out of sight, incontinently.
HUNDS. Yes, Sir Charles.
POM. Hold! I have kept thee sober for two days. Here’s for thee to make a beast of thyself.
HUNDS. Nay, I’ll disappoint him, and profit by sobriety.
[Exit 3 E. L.
POM. So, the train is laid and I hold the match in my hand (Colander returns with servants, who bring tea, coffee, &c.).
[Enter Vane, Woffington, Quin, Clive, Cibber, Snarl and Soaper, as from the dining-room, laughing.]
QUIN. I hate this detestable innovation of outlandish drawing-room drinks—your tea and coffee—pshaw!
VANE. But you forget the ladies, Mr. Quin, and in the presence of Mr. Cibber too, whom I cannot thank enough for the honor of this visit.