QUIN. We hear you dine with us at Mr. Vane’s.
SOAP. We have been invited, and are here to accept. I was told Mr. Vane was here.
QUIN. No; but he is on the stage.
SNARL. Come, then, Soaper.
[They move towards door.
SOAP. (aside). Snarl!
SNARL. Yes. (With a look of secret intelligence).
SOAP. (crosses slowly to Clive). My dear Mrs. Clive, there was I going away without telling you how charmed I was with your Flippanta; all that sweetness and womanly grace, with which you invested that character, was——
SNARL. Misplaced. Flippanta is a vixen, or she is nothing at all.
SOAP. Your Sir John Brute, sir, was a fine performance: you never forgot the gentleman even in your cups.