Clinch. jun. Stay, stay, brother.——Where are you going?
Clinch. sen. How natural 'tis for a country booby to ask impertinent questions!—Harkye, sir; is not my father dead?
Clinch. jun. Ay, ay, to my sorrow.
Clinch. sen. No matter for that, he's dead; and am not I a young, powdered, extravagant English heir?
Clinch. jun. Very right, sir.
Clinch. sen. Why then, sir, you may be sure that I am going to the Jubilee, sir.
Clinch. jun. Jubilee! What's that?
Clinch. sen. Jubilee! Why, the Jubilee is——'Faith I don't know what it is.
Dicky. Why, the Jubilee is the same thing as our Lord Mayor's day in the city; there will be pageants, and squibs, and raree-shows, and all that, sir.
Clinch. jun. And must you go so soon, brother?