Vapid. I don't know, really, ma'am—such things are perfectly dramatic.
Lady. Well, but, to release you from your fears, I'll tell you why I have given you this trouble—My business, Mr Vapid, was to converse with you on the farcical affair that happened at Neville's.
Vapid. Farcical!
Lady. Yes, sir, the farcical affair that happened at Mr Neville's.
Vapid. Farcical?—what, my epilogue, ma'am?—I hope you don't mean to reflect on that?
Lady. No, sir, far from it—I have no doubt but it is a very elegant composition.
Vapid. Doubt!—here it is, read it!—the very first production of the age! A regular climax of poetic beauty!—the last line the ne plus ultra of genius.
Lady. But, to be serious, Mr Vapid——
Vapid. Why, I am serious:—and I'll tell you, lady Waitfor't, 'tis the last line of an epilogue, and the last scene of a comedy, that always distracts me—'tis the reconciliation of lovers—there's the difficulty!—You find it so in real life, I dare say?
Lady. Yes.—But Mr Vapid, this affair concerns me excessively, and I wish to know what is to be done.