Abbot. Sir Tristram Sumner hissed?
Impossible!
Hildreth. He was not hissed!
Salerne. He was.
A solitary hiss at first; and then
The gallery caught it up and let it loose,
Like gas escaping from an old-time batten.
Abbot. But was it meant for him?
Salerne. Straight at his head
And not a hand to drown it.
Hildreth. No applause?
Salerne. Before the hiss a little civil noise,
But not a cry, no cheer, no name, no call.
Hildreth. Why did he come before the curtain then?
Salerne. Fatuitous: his instinct failed him quite.
Abbot. He thought his personality might win
A vote of confidence against the play.