Pon. Then, sir, you mis-took me. I fancy it was in one of your most decided unobserving fits that you took me for a blockhead.
Char. Well, sir; I see you have discovered my secret. Act wisely, and it may be of service to you.
Pon. Sir, I haven’t studied the law for nothing. I’m no fool, if I may be allowed the expression.
Char. I begin to suspect you have penetration enough to be useful to me.
Pon. And craving your pardon, sir, I begin to suspect your want of that faculty, from your not having found out that before.
Char. I will now trust you, although once my servant, with the state of my heart.
Pon. Sir, that’s very kind of you, to trust your humble servant with a secret he had himself discovered ten months ago.
Char. Keep it with honour and prudence.
Pon. Sir, I have kept it. Nobody knows of it, that I know of, except a few of your friends, many of your enemies, most travelling strangers, and all your neighbours.
Char. Why, zounds! you don’t mean to say that any body, except yourself, suspects me to be in love.