M. Jour. There is too much hullaballoo in all that, too much riot and rumpus.
Prof. Phil. Very good.
M. Jour. And now I want to intrust you with a great secret. I am in love with a lady of quality; and I should be glad if you would help me to write something to her in a short letter which I mean to drop at her feet.
Prof. Phil. Very well.
M. Jour. That will be gallant, will it not?
Prof. Phil. Undoubtedly. Is it verse you wish to write to her?
M. Jour. Oh, no! not verse.
Prof. Phil. You only wish prose?
M. Jour. No. I wish for neither verse nor prose.