Sir Abel. Yes, my dear—Bob, look here, a little contrivance of my own. While others carry swords and such like dreadful weapons in their canes, I more gallantly carry a fan. [Removes the head of his cane, and draws out a fan.] A pretty thought, isn't it? [Presents it to his lady.]
Ash. Some difference between thic stick and mine, beant there, zur?
[To Handy, jun.
Handy, jun. [Moving away.] Yes, there is.—[To Lady H.] Do you call that fanning yourself? [Taking the fan.] My dear ma'am, this is the way to manœuvre a fan.
Lady H. Sir, you shall find [To Handy, jun.] I have power enough to make you repent this behaviour, severely repent it—Susan!
[Exit followed by Dame.
Handy, jun. Bravo! passion becomes her; she does that vastly well.
Sir Abel. Yes, practice makes perfect.
Enter Susan.
Susan. Did your ladyship call?—Heavens! Mr. Handy!