TRIP. And she’s to sit to me for her portrait, too.
MABEL. Her portrait! (aside.) Oh, another attention of Ernest’s—but I thought you were a poet, sir?
TRIP. So I am, madam, from an epitaph to an epic. Let me convince you. (Reads) “When first from Albion’s isle——”
MABEL. But you spoke just now of painting. Are you a painter too?
TRIP. From a scene to a sign-board; from a house-front to an historical composition.
MABEL. Oh, what a clever man! And so Ernest commissioned you to paint this portrait?
TRIP. No; for that I am indebted to the lady herself.
MABEL. The lady? (Rises).
TRIP. I expected to find her here;—perhaps you can inform me whether she is arrived?