Vapid. Get into print!—pshaw! every body gets into print now.—Kings and quacks—peers and poets—bishops and boxers—tailors and trading justices—can't go lower, you know—all get into print!—But we soar a little higher,—we have privileges peculiar to ourselves.—Now, sir, I—I, for my part, can talk as I please,—say what I will, it is sure to excite mirth,—for, supposing you don't laugh at my wit, I laugh myself, Neville, and that makes every body else do the same—so allons!
Ennui. I've an idea—no bad mode of routing the enemy.
[Exeunt.
ACT THE SECOND.
SCENE I.
An Apartment in Lady Waitfor't's House.—Two Chairs.
Enter Vapid and a Servant.
Serv. Sir, my lady will wait on you immediately.
Vapid. Hark ye, sir—Is this young lady of yours very handsome?