A Trip to Scarborough; and, The Critic

by Richard Brinsley Sheridan

TILNURINA.
Yet must we part!—stern duty seals our doom Though here I call yon conscious clouds to witness, Could I pursue the bias of my soul, All friends, all right of parents, I’d disclaim, And thou, my Whiskerandos, shouldst be father And mother, brother, cousin, uncle, aunt, And friend to me!

DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS.
Oh, matchless excellence! and must we part? Well, if—we must—we must—and in that case The less is said the better.

PUFF.
Heyday! here’s a cut!—What, are all the mutual protestations out?

TILNURINA.
Now, pray, sir, don’t interrupt us just here: you ruin our feelings.

PUFF.
Your feelings!—but, zounds, my feelings, ma’am!

SNEER.
No, pray don’t interrupt them. Whisk.
One last embrace.

TILNURINA.
Now,—farewell, for ever.

DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS.
For ever!

TILNURINA.
Ay, for ever! [Going.]

PUFF.
’Sdeath and fury!—Gad’s life!—sir! madam! if you go out without the parting look, you might as well dance out. Here, here!