House of Commons, the other going down. "_Likely to sit?_" "_Another
hour--Irish row._" "_Bless those Irish!_" "_Amen._" They part--_exit_
Reporter to the House. The other lights a cigar, and three ruffians
spring out upon him. They have long Macintosh coats, but beneath the
disguise is seen the glittering uniform of the Guards. "_You bring the
wepawt of_ LORD NAMBY MACPAMBY'S _Speech_!" "_I have._" "_Hand it
over._" "_With my life only._" They seize him, but he dashes his cigar
into the face of the first, and wrestles with the second, but would be
over-mastered by the third, when the latter is dashed to the earth. Two
run away, the last is prisoner. "_But, who is my preserver?_" "_Sir, I
am but a numble actor, but you were once kyind to me in a notice of my_
Clown _in the Pantermine, and, believe me, Sir, kyindness is like the
gentle jew from eaven, which droppeth, &c._" They drag the prisoner
beneath a lamp. "THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE MARQUIS OF HAUGHTYCASTLE! _Ha,
minion!_" "_Nay, let him go--my numble Friend. I know the game._ A
LADY'S SECRET."