SERVANT.
And Mr. Puff, sir, has sent word that the last rehearsal is to be this morning, and that he’ll call on you presently.
DANGLE.
That’s true—I shall certainly be at home.—[Exit SERVANT.]—now, Sir Fretful, if you have a mind to have justice done you in the way of answer, egad, Mr. Puff’s your man.
SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.
Psha! sir, why should I wish to have it answered, when I tell you I am pleased at it?
DANGLE.
True, I had forgot that. But I hope you are not fretted at what Mr. Sneer—
SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.
Zounds! no, Mr. Dangle; don’t I tell you these things never fret me in the least?
DANGLE.
Nay, I only thought—
SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.
And let me tell you, Mr. Dangle, ’tis damned affronting in you to suppose that I am hurt when I tell you I am not.
SNEER.
But why so warm, Sir Fretful?
SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.
Gad’s life! Mr. Sneer, you are as absurd as Dangle: how often must I repeat it to you, that nothing can vex me but your supposing it possible for me to mind the damned nonsense you have been repeating to me!—let me tell you, if you continue to believe this, you must mean to insult me, gentlemen—and, then, your disrespect will affect me no more than the newspaper criticisms—and I shall treat it with exactly the same calm indifference and philosophic contempt—and so your servant. [Exit.] Sneer.
Ha! ha! ha! poor Sir Fretful! Now will he go and vent his philosophy in anonymous abuse of all modern critics and authors.—But, Dangle, you must get your friend Puff to take me to the rehearsal of his tragedy.
DANGLE.
I’ll answer for’t, he’ll thank you for desiring it. But come and help me to judge of this musical family: they are recommended by people of consequence, I assure you.