"A brisk fellow," remarked the one, nodding at the vacant seat as he stowed away his handkerchief. "But why should he guess me a rustic?"
"The fellow has no discernment," the apprentice answered dryly. "He even took the play for a merry one."
The countryman peered forward into the young-old face silhouetted against the glow which, cast upward and over the curtain-rod across the stage, but faintly reached the gallery.
"I love wit, Sir, wherever I meet it. For a pint of sack you shall prove me this play a sad one, and choose your tavern!"
"I thank you, but had liefer begin and discuss the epilogue: and the epilogue is 'Who's to pay?'"
"A gentleman of Warwickshire, Master What-d'ye-lack—will that content you? A gentleman of Warwickshire, with a coat-of-arms, or the College's promise—which, I take it, amounts to the same thing." The countryman puffed his cheeks.
"So-so?" The apprentice chuckled.
"When we mean to build
We first survey the plot, then search our pockets.
How goes it? Either so, or to that effect."