Juan. Blockheads! I went through my school-days badly, and I lived worse; but there was something in me.
Tim. Quite a genius frittered away on a lost soul.
Juan. It may be so.
Nem. And by what did you recognise this something?
Tim. When was it?
Nem. And where?
Juan. It was on awaking from a drunken bout.
Tim. Now that you are going to ascend to the sublime don’t say a drunken bout.
Juan. Well then, on arising from an orgie.
Nem. That’s well. “To Jarifa in an Orgie,” Espronceda. (Drinks.)