3rd Play. And mine is such a one, as I can't guess for my life what humour I'm to be in; whether angry, melancholy, merry, or in love. I don't know what to make on't.
1st Play. Phoo! the author will be here presently, and he'll tell us all. You must know, this is the new way of writing, and these hard things please forty times better than the old plain way. For, look you, sir, the grand design upon the stage is to keep the auditors in suspense; for to guess presently at the plot, and the sense, tires them before the end of the first act: now here, every line surprises you, and brings in new matter. And then, for scenes, clothes, and dances, we put quite down all that ever went before us; and those are the things, you know, that are essential to a play.
2nd Play. Well, I am not of thy mind; but, so it gets us money, 'tis no great matter.
Enter Bayes, Johnson, and Smith.
Bayes. Come, come in, gentlemen. You're very welcome, Mr.—a—. Ha' you your part ready?
1st Play. Yes, sir.
Bayes. But do you understand the true humour of it?
1st Play. Ay, sir, pretty well.
Bayes. And Amaryllis, how does she do? does not her armour become her?