LORD FOPPINGTON.
Why, then, it is, whether thou didst not write to my Lord Foppington, to come down and marry thy daughter?
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Yes, marry, did I, and my Lord Foppington is come down, and shall marry my daughter before she’s a day older.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
Now give me thy hand, old dad; I thought we should understand one another at last.
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
The fellow’s mad!—Here, bind him hand and foot. [They bind him.]
LORD FOPPINGTON.
Nay, pr’ythee, knight, leave fooling; thy jest begins to grow dull.
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Bind him, I say—he’s mad: bread and water, a dark room, and a whip, may bring him to his senses again.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
Pr’ythee, Sir Tunbelly, why should you take such an aversion to the freedom of my address as to suffer the rascals thus to skewer down my arms like a rabbit?—[Aside.] Egad, if I don’t awake, by all that I can see, this is like to prove one of the most impertinent dreams that ever I dreamt in my life.
Re-enter MISS HOYDEN and NURSE.
MISS HOYDEN.
[Going up to LORD FOPPINGTON.] Is this he that would have run—Fough, how he stinks of sweets!—Pray, father, let him be dragged through the horse-pond.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
This must be my wife, by her natural inclination to her husband. [Aside.]