Mr. Mac Quedy.—How many more old things?
The Rev. Dr. Folliott.—Old hospitality; old wine; old ale; all the images of old England; an old butler.
Mr. Toogood.—Shall we all be welcome?
The Rev. Dr. Folliott.—Heartily; you will be slapped on the shoulder, and called Old Boy.
Lord Bossnowl.—I think we should all go in our old clothes. He! He!
The Rev. Dr. Folliott.—You will sit on old chairs, round an old table, by the light of old lamps, suspended from pointed arches, which, Mr. Chainmail says, first came into use in the twelfth century, with old armour on the pillars and old banners in the roof.
Lady Clarinda.—And what curious piece of antiquity is the lady of the mansion?
The Rev. Dr. Folliott.—No antiquity there; none.
Lady Clarinda.—Who was she?
The Rev. Dr. Folliott.—That I know not.