Pounce. Madam, I bought the other day at three and a-half, and sold at seven——
Aunt. Then pray sir, sell for me in time. Niece, mind him; he has an infinite deal of wit.
Pounce. This that I speak of was for you. I never neglect such opportunities to serve my friends.
Aunt. Indeed, Mr. Pounce, you are, I protest without flattery, the wittiest man in the world.
Pounce. I assure you, madam, I said last night, before an hundred head of citizens, that Mrs. Barsheba Tipkin was the most ingenious young lady in the Liberties.
Aunt. Well, Mr. Pounce, you are so facetious—But you are always among the great ones; 'tis no wonder you have it.
Niece. Idle! Idle!
Pounce. But, madam, you know Alderman Grey-Goose, he's a notable joking man. Well, says he, here's Mrs. Barsheba's health; she's my mistress.
Aunt. That man makes me split my sides with laughing, he's such a wag.—Mr. Pounce pretends Grey-Goose said all this, but I know 'tis his own wit, for he's in love with me. [Aside.
Pounce. But, madam, there's a certain affair I should communicate to you. [Apart.