COLONEL TOWNLY.
Take my word for it, Sir Tunbelly, you are only tricked into a son-in-law you may be proud of: my friend Tom Fashion is as honest a fellow as ever breathed.
LOVELESS.
That he is, depend on’t; and will hunt or drink with you most affectionately: be generous, old boy, and forgive them—
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Never! the hussy!—when I had set my heart on getting her a title.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
Now, Sir Tunbelly, that I am untrussed—give me leave to thank thee for the very extraordinary reception I have met with in thy damned, execrable mansion; and at the same time to assure you, that of all the bumpkins and blockheads I have had the misfortune to meek with, thou art the most obstinate and egregious, strike me ugly!
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
What’s this! I believe you are both rogues alike.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
No, Sir Tunbelly, thou wilt find to thy unspeakable mortification, that I am the real Lord Foppington, who was to have disgraced myself by an alliance with a clod; and that thou hast matched thy girl to a beggarly younger brother of mine, whose title deeds might be contained in thy tobacco-box.
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Puppy! puppy!—I might prevent their being beggars, if I chose it; for I could give ’em as good a rent-roll as your lordship.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
Ay, old fellow, but you will not do that—for that would be acting like a Christian, and thou art a barbarian, stap my vitals.
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Udzookers! now six such words more, and I’ll forgive them directly.
LOVELESS.
’Slife, Sir Tunbelly, you should do it, and bless yourself—Ladies, what say you?