CODDLE. Infamous puppy! (_Shouts._) Nay, I insist. (_Drops voice._)
It's smoked,--just fit for you.
WHITWELL (_shouts_). Thanks, no: never eat soup. (_Drops voice._) Old
savage, lucky for you I adore your lovely daughter!
CODDLE. Shall I pitch this tureen at his head?--Jane! (_Enter JANE with
a dish._) Take off the soup, Jane. This gentleman won't have any. What
have you there?