Tra. How can you know that till you hear him?
Ink. I heard
Quite enough; and, to tell you the truth, my retreat
Was from his vile nonsense, no less than the heat.
Tra. I have had no great loss then?
Ink. Loss!—such a palaver!
I'd inoculate sooner my wife with the slaver
Of a dog when gone rabid, than listen two hours
To the torrent of trash which around him he pours,
Pumped up with such effort, disgorged with such labour,50
That——come—do not make me speak ill of one's neighbour.
Tra. I make you!
Ink. Yes, you! I said nothing until
You compelled me, by speaking the truth——
Tra. To speak ill?
Is that your deduction?
Ink. When speaking of Scamp ill,
I certainly follow, not set an example.
The fellow's a fool, an impostor, a zany.
Tra. And the crowd of to-day shows that one fool makes many.
But we two will be wise.
Ink. Pray, then, let us retire.