Loveyet. Aye, that's me;—by my body, he is jealous of me. Ha, ha; poor young fool!
[Aside.
Frankton. He thinks very highly of you, I assure you, madam; he speaks of you with admiration.
Maria. And what of that, sir?—You speak as if you thought him my only admirer.
[Affectedly.
Frankton. Disgusting vanity! [Aside.]—No, madam,—the number of your admirers is at least equal to that of your acquaintance;—but there is only one, who sincerely loves, as well as admires you.
Loveyet. Come, come, sir; none of your airs, sir:—love her indeed;—why—why, she don't love you.
[Ogling and winking at her, &c.
Worthnought. Ha, ha, gudgeons all, demme;—old square toes is cursedly bit; I see that.
[Aside.