Trif. Ay, Sir, who is't you mean?
Sir Pat. Ay, Sir, who do you mean? I hope you don't mean me.
Cank. You, and all of you who like this Piece—You are Men, Fops in Understanding, catch your Judgments from each other as you do your Dress, not because they are right, but that they are the Fashion, and you make as ridiculous a Figure in Criticism as an Ape in human Cloathing.
Lady. Give me leave to tell you, Mr. Canker, that you want Politeness.
Cank. Madam, I am sorry your Ladyship obliges me to tell you that you want Judgment.
Lady. Not to see into you, Sir—Your Envy shall never be rude or troublesome to any of my Family again, I assure you, Sir.
Cank. Nor shall your Ignorance or your Niece's ever be troublesome to me again; I would as soon Match into a Family of Hottentots.
Lady. O mighty well, Sir!—Harriet, I desire you will never think of Mr. Canker more.
Har. I shall obey your Commands, Madam.
Lady. Want Judgment! A Family of Hottentots!