SNEER. Yes—no genius! ha! ha! ha! DANGLE. A severe rogue! ha! ha! ha! But you are quite right, Sir Fretful, never to read such nonsense. SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. To be sure—for if there is anything to one’s praise, it is a foolish vanity to be gratified at it; and, if it is abuse—why one is always sure to hear of it from one damned good-natured friend or other! _Enter_ SERVANT. SERVANT. Sir, there is an Italian gentleman, with a French interpreter, and three young ladies, and a dozen musicians, who say they are sent by Lady Rondeau and Mrs. Fugue. DANGLE. Gadso! they come by appointment!—Dear Mrs. Dangle, do let them know I’ll see them directly. MRS. DANGLE. You know, Mr. Dangle, I shan’t understand a word they say. DANGLE. But you hear there’s an interpreter. MRS. DANGLE. Well, I’ll try to endure their complaisance till you come. [_Exit_.] SERVANT. And Mr. Puff, sir, has sent word that the last rehearsal is to be this morning, and that he’ll call on you presently. DANGLE. That’s true—I shall certainly be at home.—[_Exit_ SERVANT.]—now, Sir Fretful, if you have a mind to have justice done you in the way of answer, egad, Mr. Puff’s your man. SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. Psha! sir, why should I wish to have it answered, when I tell you I am pleased at it? DANGLE. True, I had forgot that. But I hope you are not fretted at what Mr. Sneer— SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. Zounds! no, Mr. Dangle; don’t I tell you these things never fret me in the least? DANGLE. Nay, I only thought— SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. And let me tell you, Mr. Dangle, ’tis damned affronting in you to suppose that I am hurt when I tell you I am not. SNEER. But why so warm, Sir Fretful? SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. Gad’s life! Mr. Sneer, you are as absurd as Dangle: how often must I repeat it to you, that nothing can vex me but your supposing it possible for me to mind the damned nonsense you have been repeating to me!—let me tell you, if you continue to believe this, you must mean to insult me, gentlemen—and, then, your disrespect will affect me no more than the newspaper criticisms—and I shall treat it with exactly the same calm indifference and philosophic contempt—and so your servant. [_Exit.] Sneer_. Ha! ha! ha! poor Sir Fretful! Now will he go and vent his philosophy in anonymous abuse of all modern critics and authors.—But, Dangle, you must get your friend Puff to take me to the rehearsal of his tragedy. DANGLE. I’ll answer for’t, he’ll thank you for desiring it. But come and help me to judge of this musical family: they are recommended by people of consequence, I assure you. SNEER. I am at your disposal the whole morning!—but I thought you had been a decided critic in music as well as in literature. DANGLE. So I am—but I have a bad ear. I’faith, Sneer, though, I am afraid we were a little too severe on Sir Fretful—though he is my friend.