Maid (loudly). His Majesty tarries.
Rat-catcher (sotto voce). He does. You've got it.
Maid. Whatever shall we do? Do think of something.
Rat-catcher. Well, I'm going to rise to the surface. I'm tired of being a submarine. (They both stand up.)
Maid (brilliantly). Perchance it was a rat we heard and not his Majesty.
Rat-catcher (with equal brilliance). Fear not, fair damsel. Behold, I will investigate. (Proceeds to back of stage.)
Archie (from wings). Come off, you idiot.
Rat-catcher (always the gentleman—to Maid). Tarry a while, my heart, what time I seek assistance. (Exit.)
Maid (confidentially to audience—to keep the thing going). Truly he is a noble youth, though he follows a lowly profession. 'Tis not the apparel that proclaims the man. Me thinks....
Me (annoyed). Who's an idiot?