SAVVY. I dont make pets of poets. Who's yours?
LUBIN. Horace.
SAVVY. Horace who?
LUBIN. Quintus Horatius Flaccus: the noblest Roman of them all, my dear.
SAVVY. Oh, if he is dead, that explains it. I have a theory that all the dead people we feel especially interested in must have been ourselves. You must be Horace's reincarnation.
LUBIN [delighted] That is the very most charming and penetrating and intelligent thing that has ever been said to me. Barnabas: will you exchange daughters with me? I can give you your choice of two.
FRANKLYN. Man proposes. Savvy disposes.
LUBIN. What does Savvy say?
BURGE. Lubin: I came here to talk politics.
LUBIN. Yes: you have only one subject, Burge. I came here to talk to Savvy. Take Burge into the next room, Barnabas; and let him rip.