Foi. Upon my shoul, joy, I cannot tell you as yet.

Aim. Nay, captain, that was too hard upon the doctor; he’s a stranger.

Foi. Oh, let him alone, dear joy; I am of a nation that is not easily put out of countenance.

Aim. Come, gentlemen, I’ll end the dispute.—Hero, landlord, is dinner ready?

Bon. Upon the table, as the saying is.

Aim. Gentlemen—pray—that door—

Foi. No, no, fait, the captain must lead.

Aim. No, doctor, the church is our guide.

Gib. Ay, ay, so it is.

[Exit Foigard foremost, the others following.

SCENE III.—The Gallery in Lady Bountiful’s House

Enter Archer and Scrub singing, and hugging one another, the latter with a tankard in his hand. Gipsy listening at a distance.

Scrub. Tall, all, dall!—Come, my dear boy, let’s have that song once more.

Arch. No, no, we shall disturb the family.—But will you be sure to keep the secret?

Scrub. Pho! upon my honour, as I’m a gentleman.

Arch. ’Tis enough. You must know, then, that my master is the Lord Viscount Aimwell; he fought a duel t’other day in London, wounded his man so dangerously that he thinks fit to withdraw till he hears whether the gentleman’s wounds be mortal or not. He never was in this part of England before, so he chose to retire to this place, that’s all.

Gip. And that’s enough for me.

[Exit.

Scrub. And where were you when your master fought?

Arch. We never know of our masters’ quarrels.

Scrub. No! if our masters in the country here receive a challenge, the first thing they do is to tell their wives; the wife tells the servants, the servants alarm the tenants, and in half an hour you shall have the whole county in arms.

Arch. To hinder two men from doing what they have no mind for.—But if you should chance to talk now of my business?

Scrub. Talk! ay, sir, had I not learned the knack of holding my tongue, I had never lived so long in a great family.

Arch. Ay, ay, to be sure there are secrets in all families.