Sir Tristram.
As a fiddle—shines like a mirror—not an ounce too much or too little. He’ll romp in!
Georgiana.
He’ll dance in! Tris Mardon!
Sir Tristram.
Eh?
Georgiana.
[Mysteriously.] Tris, Dandy Dick doesn’t belong to you—not all of him.
Sir Tristram.
No—I’ve only a half share. At your sale he was knocked down to John Fielder the trainer. The other half belongs to John.