HARLEQUIN. Very good, my lord.
[He waves his wand and the song stops.
CLOWN. Another glass, Mr. Joseph.
PANTALOON. I thank you, Sir George.
CLOWN. While I tell you my story. For it's the best story...!
PANTALOON. One moment. In this glass may we drink to the bride?
CLOWN. Yes, and it's about a bride.
PANTALOON. With his lordship's permission. ... "The bride!"
CLOWN. The bride? Whose bride? I mean, whose bride is this?
PANTALOON. His lordship's.
CLOWN. Yours, Eglantine? Well, by the clocks on my stockings!
PANTALOON. It has been kept a secret.
EGLANTINE. You leave this deed of settlement with me?
PANTALOON. To hand to her ladyship when the ceremony ends.
EGLANTINE. What's this little farm like with its two hundred a year? Where
is it?
[Mr. Talon doesn't know, it seems. Then, it is Harlequin who speaks.
HARLEQUIN. If your lordship pleases, it happens very strangely to be the
place where Richardson, our singing chambermaid, was born; where she lived
till I brought her here.
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