Nurse. Drat it. [Rings the bell.] I must have the waiter up. He'll soon manage him.
Brum. [rising, totters forward, and arranges his shabby dress]. Well, now I'm ready! Hark! I think I hear the first carriage. Sir Harry, no doubt.
Enter Waiter
Nurse. Just see to this old man—make him change his coat, for I can't.
Waiter. Well, this is the last of it. Master says he may sleep in the streets, but he doesn't stay here another night if he knows it. They won't have him at the asylum without money, and he hasn't a rap.
Nurse. Nor a stick; for there's little enough left to pay my poor wages.
Waiter [to Brummell]. Come, off with the coat!
Brum. My good fellow, leave it me to-night. I've a few friends coming. Hush! there's the first arrival. Pray, my good sir, see to my guests.
Waiter. Well, let's humor the old blade once more—he'll be in the streets to-morrow.
Nurse [to Old Woman]. Just notice this tomfoolery, child.