Horatia. Does this trifling become a man and a hero?
Charles. I know of but one thing, fair Ratty, that can become a man and a hero.
Horatia. What is that?
Charles. A boy, to be sure!
Horatia. Enough, enough of this perpetual play of words. We must think, we must act. Another is now taking your place at the vault ...
Charles. My place! how excessively obliging!
Horatia. Every moment is invaluable. Put on this dress of my Aunt’s which I have brought for you, and fly, fly, while the deception lasts!
Charles. The brandy must have got into my head.
Horatia. Put it on, I entreat you, if not for your own or your Country’s sake, yet for your noble Father’s.
Charles. My Father’s! Either you or I ... Why, what’s the matter with him? Is he in the farce too?