A Trip to Scarborough; and, The Critic

by Richard Brinsley Sheridan

DANGLE.
That’s very true, upon my word.

PUFF.
But you will find he was not going on. Sir Christ.
Enough, enough—’tis plain—and I no more Am in amazement lost!—

PUFF.
Here, now you see, Sir Christopher did not in fact ask any one question for his own information.

SNEER.
No, indeed: his has been a most disinterested curiosity!

DANGLE.
Really, I find that we are very much obliged to them both.

PUFF.
To be sure you are. Now then for the commander-in-chief, the Earl of Leicester, who, you know, was no favourite but of the queen’s.—We left off—in amazement lost! Sir Christ.
Am in amazement lost. But, see where noble Leicester comes supreme in honours and command.

SIR WALTER RALEIGH.
And yet, methinks, At such a time, so perilous, so fear’d, That staff might well become an abler grasp.

SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON.
And so, by Heaven! think I; but soft, he’s here!

PUFF.
Ay, they envy him!

SNEER.
But who are these with him?