Tommy. I guess he wasn’t let in in Queen Street. I guess hour little Buttons was very near turned away for saying we was at home to him—I guess a footman’s place is to keep his mouth hopen—no, his heyes hopen—and his mouth shut. (He lapses into silence.)
Lackey. I think Thomis is in love, Thomis is. Who was that young woman I saw you a-dancing of at the Showmier, Thomis? How the young Marquis was a-cuttin’ of it about there! The pleace was obliged to come up and stop him dancing. His man told old Buzfuz upstairs, that the Marquis’s goings on is hawful. Up till four or five every morning; blind hookey, shampaign, the dooce’s own delight. That party have had I don’t know how much in diamonds—and they quarrel and swear at each other, and fling plates: it’s tremendous.
Tommy. Why doesn’t the Marquis man mind his own affairs? He’s a supersellious beast: and will no more speak to a man, except he’s out-a-livery, than he would to a chimbly-swip. He! Cuss him, I’d fight ’im for ’alf-a-crown.
Lackey. And we’d back you, Tommy. Buzfuz upstairs ain’t supersellious; nor is the Prince’s walet nether. That old Sangjang’s a rum old guvnor. He was in England with the Count, fifty years ago—in the hemigration—in Queen Hann’s time, you know. He used to support the old Count. He says he remembers a young Musseer Newcome then, that used to take lessons from the Shevallier, the Countess’ father—there’s my bell.
[Exit Lackey.
Backystopper. Not a bad chap that. Sports his money very free—sings an uncommon good song.
Thomas. Pretty voice, but no cultiwation.
Lackey (who re-enters). Be here at two o’clock for Miss N. Take anything? Come round the corner.—There’s a capital shop round the corner.
[Exeunt Servants.
SCENE II.