Mrs. Croaker. Speak, Mr. Honeywood; is there anything more foolish than my husband's fright upon this occasion?
Honeyw. It would not become me to decide, madam; but, doubtless, the greatness of his terrors now will but invite them to renew their villainy another time.
Mrs. Croaker. I told you he'd be of my opinion.
Croaker. How, sir! do you maintain that I should lie down under such an injury, and show, neither by my tears nor complaints, that I have something of the spirit of a man in me?
Honeyw. Pardon me, sir. You ought to make the loudest complaints if you desire redress. The surest way to have redress, is to be earnest in the pursuit of it.
Croaker. Ay, whose opinion is he of now?
Mrs. Croaker. But don't you think that laughing off our fears is the best way?
Honeyw. What is the best, madam, few can say; but I'll maintain it to be a very wise way.
Croaker. But we're talking of the best. Surely the best way is to face the enemy in the field, and not wait till he plunders us in our very bed-chamber.
Honeyw. Why, sir, as to the best, that—that's a very wise way too.