I see already the riband of the Garter adorning your shirt-front. Remember, there's no damned merit about that.
Mereston.
None shall listen to my speeches without falling into a profound sleep.
Fouldes.
[Seizing his hand.] The premiership itself is within your grasp.
Lady Mereston.
Dear Paradine, let us take a stroll on the terrace before we go to bed.
Fouldes.
And you shall softly whisper all the latest scandal in my ear.
[He puts on her cloak and they go out.