Tony. Ay, before company. But when she's with her playmates, she's as loud as a hog in a gate.
Hast. But there is a meek modesty about her that charms me.
Tony. Yes; but curb her never so little, she kicks up, and you're flung in a ditch.
Hast. Well; but you must allow her a little beauty.—Yes, you must allow her some beauty.
Tony. Bandbox! She's all a made up thing, mun. Ah! could you but see Bet Bouncer, of these parts, you might then talk of beauty. Ecod, she has two eyes as black as sloes, and cheeks as broad and red as a pulpit cushion. She'd make two of she.
Hast. Well, what say you to a friend that would take this bitter bargain off your hands?
Tony. Anon.
Hast. Would you thank him that would take Miss Neville, and leave you to happiness and your dear Betsy?
Tony. Ay; but where is there such a friend? for who would take her?
Hast. I am he. If you but assist me, I'll engage to whip her off to France, and you shall never hear more of her.