A Trip to Scarborough; and, The Critic

by Richard Brinsley Sheridan

CONFIDANT.
But pray, sir, how am I to get off here?

PUFF.
You! pshaw! what the devil signifies how you get off! edge away at the top, or where you will—[Pushes the CONFIDANT off.] Now, ma’am, you see—

TILNURINA.
We understand you, sir. Ay, for ever.

BOTH.
Oh! [Turning back, and exeunt.—Scene closes.]

DANGLE.
Oh, charming!

PUFF.
Hey!—’tis pretty well, I believe: you see I don’t attempt to strike out anything new—but I take it I improve on the established modes.

SNEER.
You do, indeed! But pray is not Queen Elizabeth to appear?

PUFF.
No, not once—but she is to be talked of for ever; so that, egad, you’ll think a hundred times that she is on the point of coming in.

SNEER.
Hang it, I think it’s a pity to keep her in the green-room all the night.

PUFF.
O no, that always has a fine effect—it keeps up expectation.