Croaker. How, boy, could you desire a finer opportunity? Why don't you begin, I say?
[To Leont.
Leont. 'Tis true, madam, my father, madam, has some intentions—hem—of explaining an affair—which—himself—can best explain, madam.
Croaker. Yes, my dear; it comes entirely from my son; it's all a request of his own, madam. And I will permit him to make the best of it.
Leont. The whole affair is only this, madam; my father has a proposal to make, which he insists none but himself shall deliver.
Croaker. My mind misgives me, the fellow will never be brought on. (Aside.) In short, madam, you see before you one that loves you; one whose whole happiness is all in you.
Miss Rich. I never had any doubts of your regard, sir; and I hope you can have none of my duty.
Garnet.—"For being, as you are,
in love with Mr. Honeywood, madam."—p. 280.
Croaker. That's not the thing, my little sweeting, my love. No, no, another-guess lover than I, there he stands, madam; his very looks declare the force of his passion—Call up a look, you dog—But then, had you seen him, as I have, weeping, speaking soliloquies and blank verse, sometimes melancholy, and sometimes absent—