SIR ROBERT.—Yes, madam; I was brought up to doctoring, and am a professor of sleight-of-hand.
THE QUEEN.—What have you done in the latter art to entitle you to such a distinction?
SIR ROBERT.—I have performed some very wonderful changes. When I was out of place, I had opinions strongly opposed to Catholic emancipation; but when I got into service I changed them in the course of a few days.
THE QUEEN.—I have heard that you boast of possessing a nostrum for the restoration of the public good. What is it?
SIR ROBERT.—Am I to consider myself “as regularly called in?”
THE QUEEN.—That is a question I decline answering at present.
SIR ROBERT.—Then I regret that I must also remain silent.
THE QUEEN (aside).—The wily fox! (aloud)—Are you aware that great distress exists in the country?
SIR ROBERT.—Oh, yes! I have heard that there are several families who keep no man-servant, and that numerous clerks, weavers, and other artisans, occupy second-floors.
THE QUEEN.—I have heard that the people are wanting bread.