"Yes, I think it is," said Polly, "but I do believe it's time to talk more elegantly, Jasper. It is due to the people in the private boxes, you know."
"Oh! the boxes are to have things all right before the play is over; never you fear, Polly," said Jasper.
"'A poor presentment,
You will say we give;
But cry you mercy, Sirs, and'"?
"I don't like 'cry you mercy,'" announced Ben slowly, "because it doesn't seem to mean anything."
"Oh! don't cut that out," exclaimed Polly, clasping her hands and rushing up to Ben. "That's my pet phrase; you mustn't touch that, Bensie."
"But it doesn't mean anything," reiterated Ben in a puzzled way.
"Who cares?" cried Jasper defiantly. "A great many expressions that haven't the least significance are put in a thing of this sort. Padding, you know, my dear sir."
"Oh!" said Ben literally, "I didn't know as you needed padding. All right, if it is necessary." "It's antique, and perfectly lovely, and just like Shakespeare," cried Polly, viewing Ben in alarm.
"Oh! let the Bard of Avon have one say in this production," cried
Clare. "Go on, do, with your 'cry you mercy.' What's next, Jap?"
"Are you willing, Ben?" asked Jasper, with a glance at Polly.