REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. Well, sir, that may be. Excellent potted char. The Lord
deliver me from the learned friend.
MR. CROTCHET. Well, Doctor, for your comfort, here is a declaration of the
learned friend's that he will never take office.
REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. Then, sir, he will be in office next week. Peace be with
him. Sugar and cream.
MR. CROTCHET. But, Doctor, are you for Chainmail Hall on Christmas Day?
REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. That am I, for there will be an excellent dinner, though,
peradventure, grotesquely served.
MR. CROTCHET. I have not seen my neighbour since he left us on the canal.
REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. He has married a wife, and brought her home.
LADY CLARINDA. Indeed! If she suits him, she must be an oddity: it will be
amusing to see them together.
LORD BOSSNOWL. Very amusing. He! He! Mr. Firedamp. Is there any water
about Chainmail Hall?
REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. An old moat.
MR. FIREDAMP. I shall die of malaria.
MR. TRILLO. Shall we have any music?
REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. An old harper.
MR. TRILLO. Those fellows are always horridly out of tune. What will he play?
REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. Old songs and marches.
MR. SKIONAR. Among so many old things, I hope we shall find Old Philosophy.
REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. An old woman.
MR. PHILPOT. Perhaps an old map of the river in the twelfth century.
REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. No doubt.
MR. MAC QUEDY. How many more old things?
REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. Old hospitality; old wine; old ale; all the images of old
England; an old butler.
MR. TOOGOOD. Shall we all be welcome?
REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. Heartily; you will be slapped on the shoulder, and called
LORD BOSSNOWL. I think we should all go in our old clothes. He! He!
REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. You will sit on old chairs, round an old table, by the light of
old lamps, suspended from pointed arches, which, Mr. Chainmail says, first came
into use in the twelfth century, with old armour on the pillars and old banners in
LADY CLARINDA. And what curious piece of antiquity is the lady of the
REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. No antiquity there; none.
LADY CLARINDA. Who was she?
REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. That I know not.
LADY CLARINDA. Have you seen her?
REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. I have.
LADY CLARINDA. Is she pretty?
REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. More,--beautiful. A subject for the pen of Nonnus or the
pencil of Zeuxis. Features of all loveliness, radiant with all virtue and intelligence.