“I know the scene,” cried Mr. Bates, throwing himself into an attitude as he began: “Oh, my offense is rank; it smells to heaven!”
“That is it,” cried Kitty, interrupting him. “Well, then Hamlet appears with his Irish servant.”
“'Tis the first I've heard of him.”
“Let it not be the last.'T is a new reading. Hamlet enters, sees the king, and then turns to his Irish servant saying, 'Now might I do it, Pat'—the man's name is Patrick, you perceive?”
“Madam, a more ridiculous innovation I protest I never heard of,” said Mr. Bates.
“By my faith, sir, 't is not more ridiculous than some stage innovations that I could name,” said Kitty.
“I could understand Kitty Clive introducing such a point into one of the farces in which I hear she is a merry baggage, but—”
“You have never seen Kitty Clive then?”
“Never, but I hear she is a romp. Are you an admirer of hers, madam?”
“Sir, she has no more devoted admirer than myself,” said Kitty, looking at the man straight in the face.