Lord. Granted:—you have seen every thing worth seeing, yet know nothing worth knowing;—and now you have just knowledge enough to prove yourself a fool on every subject.
Flor. Vastly well, my lord—upon my word, you improve with your title, but I am perfectly satisfied, believe me—for what I don't know, I take for granted is not worth knowing—therefore we'll call another topic.—I'm in love, my lord.
Lord. In love!—with who, sir?
Flor. Can't you guess?
Lord. No, sir, I cannot.
Flor. With one that will please you very much—at least, ought to please you—you'll be in raptures, dear uncle.
Lord. Raptures! and you shall be in agonies, my dear nephew.
Flor. You have known one another a long while, yet you hav'n't met for years—you have loved one another a long while, yet you quarrelled not an hour ago—you have differed from one another all your lives, yet you are likely to be friends as long as you live—and, above all, the person is now in the house.
Lord. In this house! let me know who it is this moment, or by the blood of the Scratches——
Flor. One who has charms enough to set the world on fire;—one who has fortune enough to set a state at war, sir;—one who has talents, health, and prosperity, and yet not half what the person deserves:—can you tell now, sir?