My class, of mountebanks, you mean?
Phedro
No, my meaning is gathering slowly. After all, rain does not pour from the clouds until there has been sufficient mist.
[Gwymplane looks at him intently, then once more attempts departure.]
Phedro
One moment.
Gwymplane
I beg you, sir, to let me pass. I am a prey tonight to reveries that make of me a dull companion.
Phedro [experimentally]
A lady of the court was enraptured by your performance, a lady who for many years has been aware of nothing but herself.