Here Mr. Fitzfunk came forward, and commenced bowing like a mandarin, while the gentleman who had blacked Fitzflam’s eye desisted from forcing him out of the box, to hear the “great creature” speak.  Fitzfunk commenced, “Ahem—­Ladies and gentlemen, surrounded as I am by all sorts of—­(Bravos from all parts of the house.) Friends!  Friends in the boxes!—­("Bravo!” from boxes, with violent waving of handkerchiefs.) Friends in the pit!—­("Hurrah!” and sundry excited hats performing extraordinary aerial gyrations.) And last, not least in my dear love, friends in the gallery!—­(Raptures of applause; five minutes’ whistling; three chandeliers and two heads broken; and the owners of seventeen corns stamped up to frenzy!) Need I fear the malice of an individual? ("Never! never!” from all parts of the house.) Could I deceive you, an enlightened public? ("No! no! impossible! all fudge!”) Would I attempt such a thing?  ("No! no! by no manner of means!”) I am, ladies and gentlemen—­("Fitzflam!  Fitzflam!”) I bow to your judgment.  I have witnesses; shall I produce them?” “No,” said two of his most enthusiastic supporters, scrambling out of the pit, and getting on the stage; “Don’t trouble yourself; we know you; (Omnes.  “Hurrah!” To Fitzflam in boxes—­“Shame! shame!”) we will swear to you; (Omnes, " Fitzflam for ever!”) and—­we don’t care who knows it—­(Omnes.  “Noble fellows!”) we arrest you at the suit of Messrs. Moleskin and Corderoy, Regent’s-quadrant, tailors.  Attorneys, Messrs. Gallowsworthy and Pickles, of Furnival’s Inn.  Plaintiff claims 54l. debt and 65l. costs; so come along, will you!”

It was an exceedingly fortunate thing for the representatives of the Sheriff of Middlesex that their exit was marked by more expedition than elegance; for as soon as their real purpose was known, Fitzflam (as the audience supposed Fitzfunk to be) would have been rescued vi et armis.  As it was, they hurried him to a back room at the inn, and carefully double-locked the door.  It was also rather singular that from the moment of the officer’s appearance, the gentleman in the boxes whose doubts had caused the disturbance immediately owned himself in the wrong, apologised for his mistake, and withdrew.  As the tragedy could not proceed without Fitzfunk, the manager proposed a hornpipe-in-fetters and general dance by the characters; instead of the last act which was accepted, and loudly applauded and encored by the audience.

Seated in his melancholy apartment, well guarded by the bailiff, certain of being discovered and perhaps punished as an impostor, or compelled to part with all his earnings to pay for coats and continuations he had never worn, the luckless Horatio Fitzharding Fitzfunk gave way to deep despondency, and various “ahs!” and “ohs!” A tap at the door was followed by the introduction of a three-cornered note addressed to himself.  The following were its contents:—­