Poly. O, horror! In love! ’Tis epidemic—’tis running through the house! Robin, Molly, and now—How, sir! and at your age, only just turned of four-and-twenty; the thing is incredible, and—
Charles. Do but hear me, sir.
Poly. In love! it cannot be: why, he has Greek, Latin, algebra, and mathematics at his finger’s ends. And is this the termination of my hopes? You, whom I destined for a philosopher; you, whose name I fondly hoped to see placed side by side with the glorious names of Archimedes and Aristotle! Did love find out the square of the hypothenuse? Did love—
Charles. O, sir, if the bare avowal of my affection so displease you, what will you say when I confess to you that—but here comes my father. (Aside.) Where shall I conceal my dear Harriet?
Poly. Be composed; he must not observe our agitation.
Charles. Remember your promise, or I’ll keep mine. Pop!
Poly. My dear boy I’ll not betray you, I—Oh!
Enter Old Eustace, followed by Robin, to whom he gives his great-coat, hat and whip.
Eustace. Charles, my boy, I’m glad to see you. Mr. Polyglot, my worthy friend, your hand. You did not expect to see me so soon.
Poly. No, sir, we—we didn’t expect you till last week.