BISHOP. My dear sir, I learned my Greek at Shrewsbury, before you were born! Don't argue, sir!
ROBERT. Oo is argufying? . . . Talking to me about yer
Katama-what-d'you-call-it!
BISHOP. We had better drop the subject! . . . Boeotian! After all, it is not precisely the matter which has brought us together. And that reminds me . . . [Trumpet.] Has he come yet?
ROBERT. Oo?
BISHOP. Your brother, of course.
ROBERT. My brother! Oh, you'll see 'im soon enough!
BISHOP. I gather from your remark that he has not arrived yet. Good! The fact is, I should like a preliminary discussion with yourself before meeting your illustrious brother.
ROBERT. Then you'd better look slippy!
BISHOP. I beg your pardon? . . .
ROBERT [with a flap at the trumpet]. Go on: you 'eard.