Fother. [advancing to Brummell]. My dear Mr. Brummell.
Brum. Really, you have the advantage of me.
Fother. You surely remember me, Mr. Brummell. [To Nurse.] The good sisters will take care of him for the rest of his days. I must take him to them. Is he always so, my good woman?
Nurse. Poor dear, good, kind old gentleman, not allays. He takes on so at times.
Brum. Don't know you in the least. [Imagines he sees Ballarat.] Ballarat! dear old boy! Tut! tut! Ballarat! Well, this is kind. But I can't be seen in this state.
Fother. No. Here you are among friends, my good sir. [Leading him out.] This way, Mr. Brummell, I come from Lord Ballarat.
Brum. Well—be it so. Ballarat—mind—when you return to England let them know that, even in this squalor—to his last hour in the world—Brummell—poor Brummell was a gentleman still. I am ready—I am ready.
[Exit Fotherby, leading Brummell, the Nurse following.