[The Hatstand executes a cumbrous caper by way of repartee, and stumbles on.
A Folly (to a highly respectable Bedouin in a burnous and gold spectacles). Well, all I can say is, you don't seem to me to behave much like an Arab!
The Bedouin (uneasily, as he waltzes with conscientious regularity). Don't I? How ought I to behave then?
The Folly. I should have thought you'd jump about and howl, the way Bedouins do howl. You know!
The Bed. (dubiously). Um—well, you see, my dear, I—I don't feel up to that sort of thing—before supper.
The Folly (losing all respect for him). No—nor yet after it. I expect you've told some old four-wheel caravan to come and fetch you home early, and you'll turn into your little tent at the usual time—that's the sort of wild Bedouin you are! Don't let me keep you. [She leaves him.
The Bed. (alone). If she only knew the absolute horror I have of making myself conspicuous, she wouldn't expect it!
Mephistopheles (to a Picador). This was the only thing I could get to go in. How do you think it suits me?
The Picador (with candour). Well, I must say, old fellow, you do look a beast!
[Mephisto appears wounded.