Vapid. Prologue or epilogue!—I'm the man—I'll write you both.
Lord. There he is again!
Lady. Oh! I shall faint with vexation!—My lord, I desire you'll misinterpret nothing—every thing shall be explained to you.—Marianne!
Lord. Here's the curtain up with a vengeance!
Lady. Answer me directly, how came that gentleman in this apartment? I know it is some trick of yours.
Vapid. [Coming down the stage.] To be sure, never any thing was so fortunate!—upon my soul, I beg your pardon; but, curse me, if I can help laughing, to think how lucky it was for you both I happened to be behind the sofa!—ha! ha! ha!
Mari. [As if taking the hint.] 'Faith, no more can I—to be sure it was the luckiest thing in the world! ha! ha! ha!
[Here they both laugh loud, and point to my Lord, and Lady Waitfor't, who stand, between them in amazement.
Lady. Sir, I insist you lay aside this levity, and instantly explain how you came in this room.