A Trip to Scarborough; and, The Critic

by Richard Brinsley Sheridan

PUFF.
And keeps quite clear you see of the other. Enter SCENEMEN, taking away the seats.

PUFF.
The scene remains, does it?

SCENEMAN.
Yes, sir.

PUFF.
You are to leave one chair, you know.—But it is always awkward in a tragedy, to have your fellows coming in in your play-house liveries to remove things.—I wish that could be managed better.—So now for my mysterious yeoman. Enter BEEFEATER.

BEEFEATER.
Perdition catch my soul, but I do love thee.

SNEER.
Haven’t I heard that line before?

PUFF.
No, I fancy not.—Where, pray?

DANGLE.
Yes, I think there is something like it in Othello.

PUFF.
Gad! now you put me in mind on’t, I believe there is—but that’s of no consequence; all that can be said is, that two people happened to hit upon the same thought—and Shakspeare made use of it first, that’s all.

SNEER.
Very true.