RICHARD [To Mistress Merton.] What do you think of this?
MISTRESS MERTON [With a scandalized look toward her brother.] He said to me “tush.”
RICHARD [To Justice Merton, indicating Dickon.] Who is this magpie?
JUSTICE MERTON [Hisses in fury.] Satan!
RICHARD I beg pardon!
JUSTICE MERTON Satan, sir—makes you jealous.
RICHARD [Bows stiffly.] Good morning. [Walking up to Ravensbane.] Lord Ravensbane, I have a rustic colonial question to ask. Is it the latest fashion to smoke incessantly in ladies’ parlours, or is it—mediæval?
DICKON His lordship’s health, sir, necessitates—
RICHARD I addressed his lordship.
RAVENSBANE In the matter of fashions, sir— [Hands his pipe to be refilled.] My pipe, Dickon!