Aunt. So, Mr. Bridegroom, pray take that napkin, and serve your spouse to-day, according to custom.
Hump. Mrs. Clerimont, pray know my aunt.
Mrs. Cler. Madam, I must beg your pardon; I can't possibly like all that vast load of meat that you are sending in to table, besides, 'tis so offensively sweet, it wants that haut-goût we are so delighted with in France.[100]
Aunt. You'll pardon it, since we did not expect you—Who is this? [Aside.
Mrs. Cler. Oh, madam, I only speak for the future; little saucers are so much more polite. Look ye, I'm perfectly for the French way; where'er I'm admitted, I take the whole upon me.
Sir Har. The French, madam, I'd have you to know——
Mrs. Cler. You'll not like it at first, out of a natural English sullenness, but that will come upon you by degrees. When I first went into France I was mortally afraid of a frog, but in a little time I could eat nothing else, except salads.
Aunt. Eat frogs! have I kissed one that has ate frogs? Paw! paw!
Mrs. Cler. Oh, madam, a frog and a salad are delicious fare; 'tis not long come up in France itself, but their glorious monarch has introduced the diet which makes 'em so spiritual. He eradicated all gross food by taxes, and, for the glory of the monarch, sent the subject a-grazing—but I fear I defer the entertainment and diversion of the day.