Jones. I only went to the theatre—I told you, sir, what for.
Fle. Does it take an hour to go there?
Jones. On my way back I called on Miss Penelope, sir, and informed her that in future, sir, you had promised to stick to blank verse.
Fle. Give me the letter.
Jones. Here it is, sir.
Fle. It’s from Melfort! “My dear fellow, you must excuse my coming to your house—remember I have a character to lose, and were I to rehearse with a girl of seventeen anywhere but in the theatre, the world would affiché me to her.” A vain ass!
[Crushes up the letter.
Jones. I’m very fond of dialect with les Dames. Is the piece French, sir?
Fle. Go to the devil!