Charles. Sir, my good fortune is complete; and most of all in this, that my happiness has made my father happy.
Dumont. Your father? Ah, well, upon that point we shall have more to say.
Charles. What more remains that has not been said already? For surely, sir, there are few sons more fortunate in their father: and, since you approve of this marriage, may I not conceive you to be in that sense fortunate in your son?
Dumont. Dear boy, there is always a variety of considerations. But the moment is ill chosen for dispute; to-night, at least, let our felicity be unalloyed. (Looking off L.C.) Our guests arrive: here is our good Curate, and here our cheerful Notary.
Charles. His old infirmity, I fear.
Dumont. But, Charles—dear boy!—at your wedding feast! I should have taken it unneighbourly had he come strictly sober.
SCENE II
To these, by the door L.C., the Curate and the Notary arm in arm; the latter owl-like and titubant
Curate. Peace be on this house!