Clown.. Your health, Mr. Talon.
Pantaloon.. Yours, Sir George. Long life to you, my lord.
Eglantine.. Life!
[Pat on that word--that most commanding word--Columbine's song breaks forth again. And this time loud and clear.
Ah, stop that singing, it hurts me. Dismiss the girl! Pack her out of the house! I can't bear it.
Harlequin.. Very good, my lord.
[He waves his wand and the song stops.
Clown.. Another glass, Mr. Joseph.
Pantaloon.. I thank you, Sir George.
Clown.. While I tell you my story. For it's the best story...!