_Sir Per_. Vext you, my lord! Zounds, I wish I had been with you:--but,
for heaven's sake, my lord,--what was it, that could possibly vex your
lordship?

_Lord Lum_. Why, that impudent, teasing, dunning rascal, Mahogany, my
upholsterer.--You know the fellow?

_Sir Per_. Perfectly, my lord.

_Lord Lum_. The impudent scoundrel has sued me up to some damned kind of
a--something or other in the law, that I think they call an execution.

_Sir Per_. The rascal!

_Lord Lum_. Upon which, sir, the fellow, by way of asking pardon--ha, ha,
ha! had the modesty to wait on me two or three days ago, to inform my
honour--ha, ha, ha! as he was pleased to dignify me,--that the execution
was now ready to be put in force against my honour;--but that out of
respect to my honour--as he had taken a great deal of my honour's money--
he would not suffer his lawyer to serve it, till he had first informed my
honour, because he was not willing to affront my honour; ha, ha, ha! a son
of a whore!

_SirPer_. I never heard of so impudent a dog.

_Lord Lum_. Now, my dear Mac,--ha, ha, ha! as the scoundrel's apology was
so very satisfactory, and his information so very agreeable--I told him
that, in honour, I thought that my honour cou'd not do less than to order
his honour to be paid immediately.