SHORT. No, it makes one laugh in spite of one’self! Ha, ha, ha!
SWEET. (more offended) Really, Mrs. Sweet, I consider this behaviour of yours very extraordinary—not to say disgusting! Here have I been within a hair’s breadth of losing my life, and you are turning the whole thing into ridicule.
MRS. SWEET. Nay—now, don’t be angry—I can’t help myself. Ha, ha, ha!
SHORT. Ha, ha, ha! Just imagine our friend here magnificently enthroned in the gutter on the body of his prostrate enemy. Ha, ha, ha!
SWEET. Mr. Short—sir, leave off!
SHORT. Well, it is not my fault—it was your wife set me off. Ha, ha, ha!
SWEET. (looking angrily at his wife) Yes, I know it was; and her preposterous merriment explores her great want of feeling—the stony nature of her heart!
MRS. SWEET. (trying in vain to repress her laughter) Nay, now, Willie—
SWEET. Yes, ma’am, I repeat it—the stony nature of your heart!