n fact--I don't comprehend, nor, possibly, the town.

_Vapid._ I know it--that's the very thing--hark ye, I've found out a
secret--what every body understands, nobody approves; and people always
applaud most where they least comprehend.--There is a refinement, sir,
in appearing to understand things incomprehensible--else whence arises
the pleasure at an opera, a private play, or a speech in parliament?
why, 'tis the mystery in all these things--'tis the desire to find out
what nobody else can--to be thought wiser than others--therefore--you
take me--the apothecary is the hero of my tragedy.

_Nev._ 'Faith, there is some reason in all this--and I'm amazed we have
so many writers for the stage.

_Vapid._ So am I--and I think I'll write no more for an ungrateful
public--you don't know any body that has a play coming out, do you?

_Nev._ No--why do you ask?

_Vapid._ He'll want an epilogue you know, that's all.

_Nev._ Why, you won't write him one, will you?

_Vapid._ I! oh Lord! no;--but genius ought to be encouraged, and as he's
a friend of yours,--what's the name of the play?

_Nev._ I really don't know any body that has written one.

_Vapid._ Yes----yes----you do.

_Nev._ Upon my word, I do not--a cousin of mine, indeed, wrote one for
his amusement, but I don't think he could ever be prevailed on to
produce it on the stage.

_Vapid._ He prevailed on!--the manager you mean--but what did you think
of it?

_Nev._ I never read it, but am told it is a good play--and if performed,
Vapid, he will be proud of your assistance.

_Vapid._ I speak in time, because it is material--many a dull play has
been saved by a good epilogue.

_Nev._ True--but I had almost forgot.--Why, Vapid, the lady in the Grove
will enlarge your knowledge amazingly.

_Ennui._ I've an idea--she's the pattern of perfection.

_Nev._ The paragon of beauty! Ah, Vapid! I would give worlds for the
coldest expression in this letter.

_Vapid._ That letter!--what do you mean by that letter?

_Nev._ And you really pretend not to know the young Lady Waitfor't?

_Vapid._ No,--I hav'n't spoke to a woman at Bath,--but a sweet girl I
danced with at the ball; and who she is, by the Lord, I don't know.

_Nev._ Well, but, Vapid--young Lady Waitfor't--she loves you to
distraction.

_Vapid._ As I hope for fame, I never heard her name before.

_Nev._ Then she has heard yours, and admires your genius; however, read
the letter, and be satisfied she love