_Lord Lum_. [_Sings without, flusht with wine_.]
'What have we with day to do?'

_Sir Per_. O! here comes my lord.

_Lord Lum_. 'Sons of care, 'twas made for you,'
[_Enters, drinking a dish of coffee_: TOMLINS _waiting with a salver
in his hand_.]
--'Sons of care, 'twas made for you.' Very, good coffee indeed, Mr.
Tomlins. 'Sons of care, 'twas made for you.' Here, Mr. Tomlins.

_Tom_. Will your lordship please to have another dish?

_Lord Lum_. No more, Mr. Tomlins. [_Exit_ Tomlins.]
Ha, ha, ha! my host of the Scotch pints, we have had warm work.

_Sir Per_. Yes; you pushed the bottle about, my lord, with the joy and
vigour of a Bacchanal.

_Lord Lum_. That I did, my dear Mac; no loss of time with me: I have but
three motions, old boy,--charge--toast--fire--and off we go: ha, ha, ha!
that's my exercise.

_Sir Per_. And fine warm exercise it is, my lord,--especially with the
half-pint glasses.

_Lord Lum_. Zounds! it does execution point blanc:--ay, ay, none of your
pimping acorn glasses for me, but your manly, old English half-pint
bumpers, my dear: they try a fellow's stamina at once:--but, where's