Sir Fran. Well, what art thou thinking on, my Girl, ha? How to Banter Sir George?
Miran. I must not pretend to Banter: He knows my Tongue too well: (Aside.) No, Gardy, I have thought of a way will Confound him more than all I cou'd say, if I shou'd talk to him Seven Years.
Sir Fran. How's that? Oh! I'm Transported, I'm Ravish'd, I'm Mad—
Miran. It wou'd make you Mad, if you knew All, (Aside.) I'll not Answer him one Word, but be Dumb to all he says—
Sir Fran. Dumb, good; Ha, ha, ha. Excellent, ha, ha, I think I have you now, Sir George: Dumb! he'll go Distracted— Well, she's the wittiest Rogue— Ha, ha, Dumb! I can but Laugh, ha, ha, to think how damn'd Mad he'll be when he finds he has given his Money away for a a Dumb Show. Ha, ha, ha.
Miran. Nay, Gardy, if he did but know my Thoughts of him, it wou'd make him ten times Madder: Ha, ha, ha.
Sir Fran. Ay, so it wou'd Chargy, to hold him in such Derision, to scorn to Answer him, to be Dumb: Ha, ha, ha, ha.
Enter Charles.
Sir Fran. How now, Sirrah, Who let you in?
Char. My Necessity, Sir.