Lis. Not if you are disposed to listen to the most engaging book-anecdote orator in his majesty's united realms!
Alman. Well, this may be a sufficient inducement for us to remain. But why so suddenly silent, gentlemen?
Loren. The conversation had ceased before you arrived. We were thinking of a hung-beef sandwich and a glass of madeira to recruit Lysander's exhausted powers. He has been discoursing ever since dinner.
Belind. I will be his attendant and cup-bearer too, if he promises to resume his discourse. But you have probably dispatched the most interesting part.
Lysand. Not exactly so, I would hope, fair Lady! Your brother's hospitality will add fresh energy to my spirit; and, like the renewed oil in an exhausted lamp, will cause the flame to break forth with fresh splendour.
Belind. Sir, I perceive your ingenuity, at least, has not forsaken you—in whatever state your memory may be!—
Here the sandwiches made their appearance: and Lorenzo seated his guests, with his sisters, near him, round a small circular table. The repast was quickly over: and Philemon, stirring the sugar within a goblet of hot madeira wine and water, promised them all a romantic book-story, if the ladies would only lend a gracious ear. Such a request was, of course, immediately complied with.
Phil. The story is short—
Lis. And sweet, I ween.