Sir Tristram.

He won’t have me.

Georgiana.

Won’t have you!

Sir Tristram.

Because I’m down here racing. You see, he’s a Dean.

Georgiana.

Is he? Well, then, you just lay a thousand sovereigns to a gooseberry that in this house I’m a Dean, too!

Sir Tristram.

I suppose he’s thinking of the Canons—and the Bishop—and those chaps.