Oliv. 'Tis a very fine day, sir.
Vin. Madam!
Oliv. I caught a sad cold the other evening.—Pray, was you at the ball last night?
Vin. What ball, fair lady?
Oliv. Bless me! they say, Lucinda has run away with her footman, and Don Philip has married his house-maid. Now, am I not very agreeable?
[Apart to Don Cæsar.
Cæsar. O, such perverse obedience!
Vin. Really, madam, I have not the honour to know Don Philip and Lucinda—nor am I happy enough, entirely to comprehend you.
Oliv. No! I only meant to be agreeable—but, perhaps, you have no taste for pretty little small talk!
Vin. Pretty little small talk!