"Then I 'll quell your insubordination without further delay," returned the Beau, laying skilful hands on Moore's tie. "A touch to the left, a twist to the right, a pucker here, and a graceful fall of lace thus, Thomas, and you are a credit to Ireland."
"Thanky," said Moore. "If I look half as fine as you do, George, I 'll need some one to see me home. The ladies will never allow me to escape unkissed."
"A kiss in time saves nine," said Mr. Sheridan, thickly, having approached unnoticed. "I can't prove it, but it sounds curst clever, at least after the second bottle."
"Oh, by the way, Mrs. Fitz," said Brummell, languidly, "his Highness is searching for you, or I misread his behavior."
"If that is the case," replied Mrs. FitzHerbert, smiling into existence the prettiest dimple in the world, "there is only one thing for me to do."
"To hide, Mrs. FitzHerbert," suggested Moore, who understood all women save one; at least it was to this effect that he flattered himself.
"Really, Mr. Moore, you should have been born a woman."
"Not so," said the poet, "for then, like other women, I should be blind to the good fortune of his Highness in enjoying your ladyship's favor."
"But," said Brummell, pompously, "if you had been a woman, Tom, I might have loved you."
"Egad, George, for the first time in my life I regret my sex."