Nev. 'Faith, there is some reason in all this—and I'm amazed we have so many writers for the stage.
Vapid. So am I—and I think I'll write no more for an ungrateful public—you don't know any body that has a play coming out, do you?
Nev. No—why do you ask?
Vapid. He'll want an epilogue you know, that's all.
Nev. Why, you won't write him one, will you?
Vapid. I! oh Lord! no;—but genius ought to be encouraged, and as he's a friend of yours,—what's the name of the play?
Nev. I really don't know any body that has written one.
Vapid. Yes——yes——you do.
Nev. Upon my word, I do not—a cousin of mine, indeed, wrote one for his amusement, but I don't think he could ever be prevailed on to produce it on the stage.
Vapid. He prevailed on!—the manager you mean—but what did you think of it?