Sir Geo. Who is he! Ha, ha, ha! Gad, that's an odd question to the fellow that has been cracking your walnuts.
Lady Am. He is bad at his lesson.
Sir Geo. Certainly, when he ran from school—why don't you speak, you lubber? you're curst modest now, but before I came, 'twas all done amongst the posies—Here, my lady, take from a father's hand, Harry Thunder.
Lady Am. That is what I may not.
Sir Geo. There, I thought you'd disgust her, you flat fish!
Enter Rover.
Lady Am. [Taking Rover's hand.] Here, take from my hand, Harry Thunder.
Sir Geo. Eh! [Staring at Rover.]
Rover. Eh! Oh! this is your sham Sir George? [Apart.
Harry. Yes; I've been telling the lady, and she'll seem to humour him.