Sir Fran. I am sure I ha' drunk it these thirty years, and by your leave, Madam, I don't know that I want wit: Ha! ha!
Jenny. But you might have had a great deal more, Papa, if you would have been govern'd by my Mother.
Sir Fran. Daughter! he that is governed by his Wife, has no wit at all.
Jenny. Then I hope I shall marry a fool, Sir; for I love to govern dearly.
Sir Fran. You are too pert, child; it don't do well in a young woman.
Lady Wrong. Pray, Sir Francis, don't snub her; she has a fine growing spirit, and if you check her so, you will make her as dull as her brother there.
Squ. Rich. [After a long draught.] Indeed, Mother, I think my sister is too forward!
Jenny. You! you think I'm too forward! sure! Brother Mud! your head's too heavy to think of any thing but your Belly.
Lady Wrong. Well said, Miss; he's none of your Master, tho' he is your elder Brother.