Dorriforth. Note that—it’s very important.
Florentia. I mean too precious for that sort of thing.
Auberon. Then you didn’t sit spellbound by the little history of the Due d’Enghien?
Florentia. I sat yawning. Heavens, what a piece!
Amicia. Upon my word I liked it. The last act made me cry.
Dorriforth. Wasn’t it a curious, interesting specimen of some of the things that are worth trying: an attempt to sail closer to the real?
Auberon. How much closer? The fiftieth part of a point—it isn’t calculable.
Florentia. It was just like any other play—I saw no difference. It had neither a plot, nor a subject, nor dialogue, nor situations, nor scenery, nor costumes, nor acting.
Amicia. Then it was hardly, as you say, just like any other play.
Auberon. Florentia should have said like any other bad’one. The only way it differed seemed to be that it was bad in theory as well as in fact.