Frans. I don’t know.
Van Weller. It is surely your place to know.
Frans. Alas! who in this corrupt age does know himself? At Ephesus, it was written——
Van Weller. That does not concern me, or you either. What is your name?
Frans. That’s another matter. My late master used to call me....
Van Weller (impatiently). Well?
Frans. ... when he was in a good-humour, “You vagabond!”
Van Weller. Pretty! very pretty! If you keep up this game much longer, I shall be tempted to write that name on your back with my horsewhip!
Frans. Don’t do that, please. It would cause confusion, as it is not my name at present.
Van Weller (smiling). Well, tell me your name, then?