Trudge. They are talking of nothing else but the match, it seems.
Inkle. Confusion! How can I, in honour, retract?
Trudge. And the bride's merits——
Inkle. True!—A fund of merits!—I would not—but from necessity—a case so nice as this—I—would not wish to retract.
Trudge. Then they call her so handsome.
Inkle. Very true! so handsome! the whole world would laugh at me; they'd call it folly to retract.
Trudge. And then they say so much of her fortune.
Inkle. O death! it would be madness to retract. Surely, my faculties have slept, and this long parting from my Narcissa has blunted my sense of her accomplishments. 'Tis this alone makes me so weak and wavering. I'll see her immediately. [Going.]
Trudge. Stay, stay, sir; I am desired to tell you, the Governor won't open his gates to us till to-morrow morning.