D. (taking). I thank thee, Laura; and now to learn the secret:
Who is this wanton traitress? (Opens case.)
Ah!—ha! ha!
Impossible,—’tis true. Who would believe it?
Why, friends, there is no secret after all:
No lady,—’tis himself.—
He carries a portrait of himself; himself
Leaning upon his elbow. Now, heaven save me!
This I was told; but tho’my own eyes see it,
I cannot credit it. O, gracious sir,