CROAKER. You did indeed dissemble, you urchin you; but where's the girl that won't dissemble for a husband? My wife and I had never been married, if we had not dissembled a little beforehand. OLIVIA. It shall be my future care never to put such generosity to a second trial. And as for the partner of my offence and folly, from his native honour, and the just sense he has of his duty, I can answer for him that—— _Enter_ LEONTINE. LEONT. Permit him thus to answer for himself. (_Kneeling._) Thus, sir, let me speak my gratitude for this unmerited forgiveness. Yes, sir, this even exceeds all your former tenderness: I now can boast the most indulgent of fathers. The life he gave, compared to this, was but a trifling blessing. CROAKER. And, good sir, who sent for you, with that fine tragedy face, and flourishing manner? I don't know what we have to do with your gratitude upon this occasion. LEONT. How, sir, is it possible to be silent when so much obliged? Would you refuse me the pleasure of being grateful? Of adding my thanks to my Olivia's? Of sharing in the transports that you have thus occasioned? CROAKER. Lord, sir, we can be happy enough, without your coming in to make up the party. I don't know what's the matter with the boy all this day; he has got into such a rhodomontade manner all the morning! LEONT. But, sir, I that have so large a part in the benefit, is it not my duty to show my joy? Is the being admitted to your favour so slight an obligation? Is the happiness of marrying my Olivia so small a blessing? CROAKER. Marrying Olivia! marrying Olivia! marrying his own sister! Sure the boy is out of his senses! His own sister! LEONT. My sister! OLIVIA. Sister! How have I been mistaken! _Aside._ LEONT. Some cursed mistake in all this, I find. _Aside._ CROAKER. What does the booby mean, or has he any meaning? Eh, what do you mean, you blockhead you? LEONT. Mean, sir—why, sir—only when my sister is to be married, that I have the pleasure of marrying her, sir; that is, of giving her away, sir—I have made a point of it. CROAKER. O, is that all? Give her away. You have made a point of it. Then you had as good make a point of first giving away yourself, as I'm going to prepare the writings between you and Miss Richland this very minute. What a fuss is here about nothing! Why, what's the matter now? I thought I had made you at least as happy as you could wish. [Illustration: BAILIFF.—"_Look-ye, sir, I have arrested as good men as you in my time._"—_p._ 290. ] OLIVIA. Oh! yes, sir, very happy. CROAKER. Do you foresee anything, child? You look as if you did. I think if anything was to be foreseen, I have as sharp a look-out as another: and yet I foresee nothing. [_Exit._ LEONTINE, OLIVIA. OLIVIA. What can it mean? LEONT. He knows something, and yet for my life I can't tell what.