Lord. Ay, sir,—explain.
Vapid. Never fear, old lady—I'll bring you off, depend on't.
Lady. Bring me off, sir! speak out, sir, how came you in this apartment?
Vapid. With all my heart—by her ladyship's own appointment.
Lady. My own appointment!—--I shall run wild.
Vapid. To be sure you have hardly forgot your own hand writing.
Lord. Her own hand writing!—get on, sir,—I beseech you, get on.
Vapid. Why, look ye, old Scratch,—you seem to be an admirer of this lady's.—Now I think it my duty as a moral dramatist—a moral dramatist, sir, mark that—to expose hypocrisy—therefore, sir, there is the letter, read it, and be convinced of your error.
Lord. Very well; have you done, sir—have you done?—consider I'm a peer of the realm, and I shall die if I don't talk.
Vapid. And now, sir, I must beg a favour of you—[Gets close to him.]—keep the whole affair secret, for if it gets hacknied, it loses its force.—To bring it all on the stage: hush! say nothing—it will have a capital effect, and brother bards will wonder where I stole it—your situation will be wonderful—you hav'n't an idea how ridiculous you will look—you will laugh very much at yourself, I assure you.