Here one of the window curtains is drawn aside, and TRIPTOLEMUS peeps in.
TRIPTOLE. The coast seems clear! (looks cautiously round, and then comes forward—he has his pocket handkerchief tied round his head, his coat still ripped up to the collar, looks quite wet through, and the picture of wretchedness) I shan’t forget my visit to the metropolis of civilized England in a hurry. (seeing the sideboard) What’s that? something in the refreshment line! I’m not addicted to picking and stealing, but a man can’t be expected to go all day long, on half an ounce of lozenges! (goes to the sideboard and begins helping himself, drinking the negus out of the decanters)
Enter PHŒBE at L.
PHŒBE. (seeing TRIPTOLEMUS) Ah! somebody helping himself to the negus! Holloa, sir!
TRIPTOLE. (turning round, his mouth stuffed full of cakes and each hand crammed with them—seeing PHŒBE) What’s the matter? Ah, Phœbe!
PHŒBE. Trip! Dear—dear, how wet you look!
TRIPTOLE. Do you expect a man to stand under a waterspout and not get wet? Look there. (squeezing a quantity of water out of his coat tail)
PHŒBE. I don’t wish to alarm you, but that dreadful captain, who threw you out of the window——
TRIPTOLE. Well?