(Enter SYLVESTER.)
CHARLES SYLVESTER.
Afternoon, Rembrandt. Ah, Mr. Schercl, how-d'ye do.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Sylvester himself—the devil. (Aloud.) Dear old man, we were talking of you! I was just telling Mr. Schercl what you are kind enough to say of "Susannah."
(Kicks him aside.)
HENRICH SCHERCL.
You think it goot, Mr. Sylvester, yes?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
He thinks it superb, so far as it has gone.