Alon. His father’s pleasant humour!
Clara. A courteous comparison!
Eug. (aside). Which holds as far as the ass at least.
Torr. Well, there’s a remedy. I say, uncle, mustn’t cousins get a dispensation before they marry?
Alon. Yes, nephew.
Torr. Well then, when you’re about it, you can get two dispensations, and I can marry both my cousins. Aha! Well, but, uncle, how are you? I had forgot to ask you that.
Alon. Quite well, in seeing you in my house at last, and to reap, I trust, the fruits of all my travel.
Torr. Ah, you may say that. Oh, cousins, if you could only see my pedigree and patent, in a crimson velvet case; and all my forefathers painted in a row—I have it in my saddle bags, and if you’ll wait a minute—
Enter Mari Nuño.