Anthony. I do not know exactly, sir. I believe he is related.
Austin. Or perhaps—I remember a Mr. Bosbury, a cutter of coats. I have the vanity to believe I formed his business.
Anthony. I—I hope not, sir. But as I was saying, I and this Jack Bosbury, and the Brummagem Bantam—a very pretty light-weight, sir—drank seven bottles of Burgundy to the three of us inside the eighty minutes. Jack, sir, was a little cut; but me and the Bantam went out and finished the evening on hot gin. Life, sir, life! Tom Cribb was with us. He spoke of you, too, Tom did: said you’d given him a wrinkle for his second fight with the black man. No, sir, I assure you, you’re not forgotten.
Austin (bows). I am pleased to learn it. In my time, I had an esteem for Mr. Cribb.
Anthony. O come, sir! but your time cannot be said to be over.
Austin. Menteith, you hear?
Menteith. Yes, Mr. George.
Anthony. The Colonel told me that you liked to shake an elbow. Your big main, sir, with Lord Wensleydale, is often talked about. I hope I may have the occasion to sit down with you. I shall count it an honour, I assure you.
Austin. But would your aunt, my very good friend, approve?
Anthony. Why, sir, you do not suppose I am in leading-strings?