Pounce. Who are these? Hey-day, who are these, Sir Harry? Ha!
Sir Har. Some frolic, 'tis wedding-day; no matter.
Hump. Haw! haw! father, master uncle, come, you must stir your stumps, you must dance—Come, old lads, kiss the ladies.
Mrs. Cler. Mr. Tipkin, Sir Harry, I beg pardon for an introduction so malapropos; I know sudden familiarity is not the English way. Alas, Mr. Gubbin, this father and uncle of yours must be new modelled; how they stare, both of them!
Sir Har. Hark ye, Numps, who is this you have brought hither? is it not the famous fine lady, Mrs. Clerimont? What a pox did you let her come near your wife?
Hump. Look ye, don't expose yourself, and play some mad country prank to disgrace me before her; I shall be laughed at, because she knows I understand better.
Mrs. Cler. I congratulate, madam, your coming out of the bondage of a virgin state. A woman can't do what she will properly till she's married.
Sir Har. Did you hear what she said to your wife?
Enter Aunt, before a service of Dishes.