Trap. Yes, sir.
Fust. Faith, sir, I can't for the soul of me see how what has hitherto past can conduce at all to that end.
Trap. You can't? indeed, I believe you can't; for that is the whole plot of my play: and do you think I am like your shallow writers of comedy, who publish the bans of marriage between all the couples in their play in the first act? No, sir, I defy you to guess my couple till the thing is done, slap all at once; and that too by an incident arising from the main business of the play, and to which everything conduces.
Fust. That will, indeed, surprise me.
Trap. Sir, you are not the first man my writings have surprised. But what's become of all our players?—Here, who begins the second act?—Prompter!
Enter 1st Player.
I Play. Sir, the prompter and most of the players are drinking tea in the green-room.
Trap. Mr Fustian, shall we drink a dish of tea with them? Come, sir, as you have a part in my play, you shall drink a dish with us.
I Play. Sir, I dare not go into the green-room; my salary is not high enough: I shall be forfeited if I go in there.
Trap. Pshaw! come along; your sister has merit enough for herself and you too: if they forfeit you, I'll warrant she'll take it off again.