Mr. ——. "Give every man his deserts." Shakspeare.
Mrs. ——. My love, shall I send you a peach?
Mr. ——. Yes, and if it isn't a good one, I'll impeach your judgment.
By connivance with the Frenchman, he must offer you a pinch of Maccuba snuff, saying he's sorry it is not better, but his Tonquin bean has lost its flavour. You then reply—Ay, I see it's one of the has-beens.
Mrs. ——. Oh! that's too bad.
Mr. ——. Why, it's wit at a pinch, at any rate; therefore it need not make you baw—l, as if I had got into the wrong box.—(Turning to the boys.)—What's Latin for goose, eh!
Boys. Brandy, papa!
Mrs. ——. You'll kill yourself with that vile liquor.
Mr. ——. How can that be—Isn't it eau de vie?
Mrs. ——, at some time, must call for the nutmeg grater.—You take it, and address your neighbour: Sir, you are a great man, but here is a grater.
The sweetmeats will be praised of course.
Mr. ——. All my wife's doing. Nancy's a notable woman, I assure you; but I'm more not able than she is, an't I, my dear?
Ladies all rise.
Mrs. ——. (Blushing.)—I can take a hint. My dear, pray touch the bell.
Mr. ——. (Chucking a young lady under the chin.)—Yes, my love, I'll touch the belle.
Mrs. ——. (Going.)—You wag!
Mr. ——. No, I think you wag, but—(bowing)—I bow to you.
The ladies gone, the gentlemen need no instructions. They will all have recourse to their mother tongue, and the most ignorant will shine the most. The master must begin with half a dozen obscene puns, to make himself agreeable, and the conversation general[32].