MR. JOUR. Shake hands, then, my daughter is no wife for you.
CLE. How! May I know…?
MR. JOUR. You are not a nobleman, therefore you shall not have my daughter.
MRS. JOUR. What is it you mean by your nobleman? Are we ourselves descended from St. Louis?
MR. JOUR. Be silent, wife; I see what you are driving at.
MRS. JOUR. Are we not both descended from good, simple tradesmen?
MR. JOUR. Is not that a wicked slander?
MRS. JOUR. Was not your father a tradesman as well as mine?
MR. JOUR. Plague take the woman! She has never done with that. If your father was a tradesman, so much the worse for him; as for mine, it is only ill-informed people who say so, and all I have to tell you is that I will have a gentleman for my son-in-law.
MRS. JOUR. Your daughter must have a husband who suits her; and it is better for her to marry an honest man, rich and handsome, than a deformed and beggarly gentleman.