A Trip to Scarborough; and, The Critic

by Richard Brinsley Sheridan

SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.
Oh, if Mr. Dangle read it, that’s quite another affair!—But I assure you, Mrs. Dangle, the first evening you can spare me three hours and a half, I’ll undertake to read you the whole, from beginning to end, with the prologue and epilogue, and allow time for the music between the acts.

MRS. DANGLE.
I hope to see it on the stage next.

DANGLE.
Well, Sir Fretful, I wish you may be able to get rid as easily of the newspaper criticisms as you do of ours.

SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.
The newspapers! Sir, they are the most villainous—licentious—abominable—infernal.—Not that I ever read them—no—I make it a rule never to look into a newspaper.

DANGLE.
You are quite right; for it certainly must hurt an author of delicate feelings to see the liberties they take.

SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.
No, quite the contrary! their abuse is, in fact, the best panegyric—I like it of all things. An author’s reputation is only in danger from their support.

SNEER.
Why, that’s true—and that attack, now, on you the other day—

SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.
What? where?

DANGLE.
Ay, you mean in a paper of Thursday: it was completely ill-natured, to be sure.

SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.
Oh so much the better.—Ha! Ha! Ha! I wouldn’t have it otherwise.