Sir Geo. What, to make a quaker of him?—No, no. But, hold, as she's now a wealthy heiress, her marrying my son Harry, will keep up and preserve her title in our own family too. [Aside.] Would'st thou really be glad to see him? thou shalt, Mary. Ha, ha, ha! John Dory! [Calling.] Here comes my valet de chambre.
Enter John Dory.
John. Why, sir—such a breeze sprung up!
Sir Geo. Avast, old man of war; you must instantly convoy my son from Portsmouth.
John. Then I must first convoy him to Portsmouth, for he happens to be out of the dock already.
Sir Geo. What wind now?
John. You know, on our quitting harbour—
Sir Geo. Damn your sea jaw, you marvellous dolphin, give the contents of your logbook in plain English.
John. The young squire has cut and run.
Sir Geo. What?