Mr Panscope. I beg leave to observe, sir, that my language was perfectly perspicuous, and etymologically correct; and, I conceive, I have demonstrated what I shall now take the liberty to say in plain terms, that all your opinions are extremely absurd.
Mr Escot. I should be sorry, sir, to advance any opinion that you would not think absurd.
Mr Panscope. Death and fury, sir——
Mr Escot. Say no more, sir. That apology is quite sufficient.
Mr Panscope. Apology, sir?
Mr Escot. Even so, sir. You have lost your temper, which I consider equivalent to a confession that you have the worst of the argument.
Mr Panscope. Lightning and devils! sir——
Squire Headlong. No civil war!—Temperance, in the name of Bacchus!—A glee! a glee! Music has charms to bend the knotted oak. Sir Patrick, you'll join?
Sir Patrick O'Prism. Troth, with all my heart; for, by my soul, I'm bothered completely.
Squire Headlong. Agreed, then; you, and I, and Chromatic. Bumpers! Come, strike up.