There, Sir, take your poetry again.
[Throwing it at his feet.
'Tis not much the worse for my wearing: 'twill serve again upon a fresh occasion.
Jacin. Well done.
Car. I believe I can return the present, Madam, with——a pocket full of your prose——There——
[Throwing a handful of letters at her feet.
Leo. Jacinta, give me his letters. There, Sir, not to be behind-hand with you.
[Takes a handful of his letters out of a box, and throws them in his face.
Jacin. And there, and there, and there, Sir.