"Duenna. What then, Sir, are you comparing me to some wanton— some courtezan?
"Isaac. Zounds! he durstn't.
"Moses. O not I, upon my soul.
"Duenna. Yes, he meant some young harlot—some—
"Moses. Oh, dear Madam, no—it was my mother I meant, as I hope to be saved.
"Isaac. Oh the blundering villain! (aside.)
"Duenna. How, Sir—am I so like your mother?
"Isaac. Stay, dear Madam—my friend meant—that you put him in mind of what his mother was when a girl—didn't you, Moses?
"Moses. Oh yes, Madam, my mother was formerly a great beauty, a great toast, I assure you;—and when she married my father about thirty years ago, as you may perhaps remember, Ma'am—
"Duenna. I, Sir! I remember thirty years ago!