REBECCA. At what time—why, he’s here all day.
VAN. What? and goes away at night, I suppose?
REBECCA. No he doesn’t—what should he go away at night for?
VAN. You don’t mean to say that he sleeps here?
REBECCA. Yes, but I do though!
VAN. (aside) Under the same roof! Preposterous! I’ll bombard the house! Blow it into the air! (aloud) Very well, I’ll wait for him. (takes off morning gown, and throws it on table, R.)
REBECCA. Won’t you take your breakfast, sir? it’s all getting cold.
VAN. Don’t talk to me of breakfast! Stay! on second thoughts I don’t know! I must keep up my strength! Nourish my revenge! Not eat my breakfast! I’ll go into training like a prize fighter! eat raw beefsteaks every day for a month, and then come down upon him like the Gladiator! (striking the attitude) Or Alcides throwing Lychas into the sea! (attitude) Look out for yourself, Bobbins! I feel as if I had the thews of the Farnesian Hercules! Oh! for the apples of the Hesperides, to hit him in the eye, and a club like a weaver’s beam to knock his brains out!—my breakfast, I say! my breakfast!
REBECCA. This is the way to the parlour, sir! (pointing L. D.)