Enter Scattergood.
Sir Lionel. How now, son Bubble? how come you thus attir'd?
What! do you mean to make yourself a laughing-stock, ha?
Bub. Um! Ignorance, ignorance.
[Aside.]
Gera. For the love of laughter, look yonder:
Another herring in the same pickle.
W. Rash. T'other hobby-horse, I perceive, is not forgotten.[214]
Bub. Ha, ha, ha, ha!
Scat. Ha, ha, ha, ha!
Bub. Who has made him such a coxcomb, trow? An Italian Tu quoque?
Scat. I salute you according to the Italian fashion.
Bub. Puh! the Italian fashion! The tattered-demalian fashion he means.