Ah, well remembered. Pray redeem, Mr. Talon, as soon as may be,
my note of hand for fifteen thousand from Sir Jeffrey Rake's steward.
PANTALOON. My lord.
CLOWN. And it's him that this bit of gossip's about that I've come to tell
'ee. Dang it, the best that ever you heard. You must know ...
EGLANTINE. George, we detain Mr. Talon, who has business to do and no care
for gossip.
PANTALOON. Oh, believe me, my lord, for an old 'un ...
CLOWN. So we do believe you, Mr. Joseph ... sprier than many an old 'un,
I'm sure.
EGLANTINE. A parting glass of wine to cheer you. George, help Mr. Talon and
yourself.
[Harlequin waves his wand--a napkin it is this time--and the glasses
are filled.
CLOWN. Your health, Mr. Talon.
PANTALOON. Yours, Sir George. Long life to you, my lord.
EGLANTINE. Life!
[Pat on that word--that most commanding word--Columbine's song breaks
forth again. And this time loud and clear.
Ah, stop that singing, it hurts me. Dismiss the girl! Pack her out of the
house! I can't bear it.
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