Fred. [Aside.] Now cannot I, for my heart, bring out one word against this love.
Luc. Come, you are mute upon a subject, that is both easy and pleasant. A man in love is so ridiculous a creature—
Fred. Especially to those that are not.
Luc. True; for to those that are, he cannot be so: They are like the citizens of Bethlehem, who never find out one another's madness, because they are all tainted. But for such ancient fops, as, with reverence, your father is, what reason can they have to be in love?
Fred. Nay, your old fop's unpardonable, that's certain. But—
Luc. But what? Come, laugh at him.
Fred. But I consider he is my father, I can't laugh at him.
Luc. But, if it were another, we should see how you would insult over him.
Fred. Ay, if it were another—And yet I don't know neither, 'tis no part of good nature to insult: A man may be overtaken with a passion, or so; I know it by myself.
Luc. How, by yourself! You are not in love, I hope?—Oh that he would confess first now! [Aside.