_
_Enter_ HANDY, _jun._
_Handy, jun._ At last, thank Heaven, I have found somebody. But, Sir
Philip, were you indulging in soliloquy?--You seem agitated.
_Sir Philip._ No, sir; rather indisposed.
_Handy, jun._ Upon my soul, I am devilish glad to find you. Compared
with this castle, the Cretan labyrinth was intelligible; and unless some
kind Ariadne gives me a clue, I shan't have the pleasure of seeing you
above once a-week.
_Sir Philip._ I beg your pardon, I have been an inattentive host.
_Handy, jun._ Oh, no; but when a house is so devilish large, and the
party so very small, they ought to keep together; for, to say the truth,
though no one on earth feels a warmer regard for Robert Handy than I
do--I soon get heartily sick of his company--whatever he may be to
others, he's a cursed bore to me.
_Sir Philip._ Where's your worthy father?
_Handy, jun._ As usual, full of contrivances that are impracticable, and
improvements that are retrograde; forming, altogether, a whimsical
instance of the confusion of arrangement, the delay of expedition, the
incommodiousness of accommodation, and the infernal trouble of
endeavouring to save it--he has now a score or two of workmen about him,
and intends pulling down some apartments in the east wing of the Castle.
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