Cæsar. Never, never better pleased in my life;—so you had really, now, you young baggage, rather have me for a grandfather, than a husband?
Mar. Forgive my frankness, sir—a thousand times!
Cæsar. My dear girl, let me kiss your hand.—Egad! you've let me off charmingly. I was frightened out of my wits, lest you should have taken as violent an inclination to the match, as your father has.
Mar. Dear sir, you charm me.
Cæsar. But harkye!—you'll certainly incur your father's anger, if I don't take the refusal entirely on myself, which I will do, if you'll only assist me in a little business I have in hand.
Mar. Any thing to show my gratitude.
Cæsar. You must know, I can't get my daughter to marry; there's nothing on earth will drive her to it, but the dread of a mother-in-law. Now, if you will let it appear to her, that you and I are driving to the goal of matrimony, I believe it will do—what say you? shall we be lovers in play?
Mar. If you are sure it will be only in play.
Cæsar. Oh, my life upon't—but we must be very fond, you know.
Mar. To be sure—exceedingly tender; ha! ha! ha!