TRIPTOLE. I don’t know whose garment this is that I’ve got into, but from the extensive assortment of gloves in the pockets, I should say he must be a hosier on a large scale. (pulling out a handful of gloves from each pocket of the paletot, of various colours) Now then for another attempt to escape.
(he makes his way towards C., and is just going to sneak out—finds himself face to face with CAPTAIN HARDAPORT, who enters L. C.—TRIPTOLEMUS utters a sort of a scream, and staggers back, grasping the back of a chair to keep himself from falling)
CAPT. H. Holloa, messmate, ain’t you well?
TRIPTOLE. (pulling his wig over his face, and in a faltering voice, R.) N-ot particularly.
CAPT. H. (L.) The heat of the room, I suppose? Been dancing and skipping about, eh?
TRIPTOLE. (faintly, and wiping his face with a handful of gloves, which he takes out of his pocket) Yes; I’ve had a good deal of skipping about lately.
CAPT. H. (looking cautiously about—then mysteriously to TRIPTOLEMUS, who, in order to appear collected is pulling on a pair of gloves of different colours) Hark ye, messmate: you can do me a good turn! I’m looking out for a young chap here—a rival! (in a voice of thunder—TRIPTOLEMUS gives a violent start) whose brains, if he’s got any, I mean to blow out—all fair and above board, of course! Now, what d’ye think I’d better do, to put his monkey up—pull his nose or kick him round the room?
Enter BUNNY, COCKLETOP, CAROLINE, ARABELLA, and other GUESTS, C.—the music ceases—some of the GUESTS seat themselves at card tables and begin to play, others take refreshments, handed about by JONATHAN, R. and L.
TRIPTOLE. The monkey?