fear? His person is sacred; for by the tenth of William and Mary—

He knows that well enough; but for all that—

Indeed, by a late act of his own house, (which does them infinite honour) his goods or chattels may be——

Seiz'd upon when they can find them, but he lives in ready-furnish'd lodgings, and hires his coach by the month.

Nay, if the sheriff return "non inventus"—

A pox o' your law, you make me lose sight of my story. One morning, a Welch coach-maker came with his bill to my Lord, whose name was unluckily Loyd. My Lord had the man up. You are call'd, I think, Mr. Loyd?—At your Lordship's service, my Lord.——What, Loyd with an L?—It was with an L indeed, my Lord.—Because in your part of the world I have heard that Loyd and Floyd were synonymous, the very same names.—Very often indeed, my lord.—But you always spell your's with an L?—Always.—That, Mr. Loyd, is a little unlucky; for you must know I am now paying my debts alphabetically, and in four or five years you might have come in with an F; but I am afraid I can give you no hopes for your L.—Ha, ha, ha!

There was no overtaking the servant.

That is unlucky: tell my Lord I'll attend him.—I'll call on Sir Gregory myself.

Why, you won't leave us, Sir Luke?

Pardon, dear Serjeant and Charlotta; have a thousand things to do for half a million of people positively; promised to procure a husband for Lady Cicely Sulky, and match a coach-horse for Brigadier Whip; after that, must run into the city to borrow a thousand for young At-all at Almack's; send a Cheshire cheese by the stage to Sir Timothy Tankard in Suffolk; and get at the Herald's Office a coat of arms to clap on the coach of Billy Bengal, a nabob newly arriv'd: so you see I have not a moment to lose.

True, true.