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_ [_Taking him by the hand._] By Heaven, you are an honest fellow. _Vapid._ Madam, good night!--if I can be of any service to you in the dramatic, or any other way, you may command me. _Flor._ Ay, I'll answer for him,--he would die to serve you. _Vapid._ Die to serve her! ay, "Die all!--die nobly!--die like demi-gods!" [_Exeunt._ ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I. _LADY WAITFOR'T'S Apartment._ _LADY WAITFOR'T discovered at her Toilette. LETTY waiting._ _Lady._ Mr Vapid not come yet, Letty? _Letty._ No, ma'am,--but the servant, who found him at the tavern, said he would be here immediately. _Lady._ I protest, I am almost weary of them all.--[_Noise without._] See who's there. [_LETTY listens, and returns._ _Letty._ Mr Vapid at last:--now, pray your ladyship, insist on his explaining every thing to my lord. _Lady._ Yes; but vilely as he has treated me, I must still be calm. _VAPID, putting his head in._ Walk in, sir, walk in. _Vapid._ No, ma'am, I'd rather stay here. _Lady._ I beg you'll be seated, Mr Vapid--I have something of consequence to impart to you. _Enter VAPID, gently._ _Vapid._ I'd never have ventured but in hopes of seeing my dear Marianne. _Lady._ Indeed I will not detain you a moment. _Vapid._ Very well, ma'am, if that's the case----[_Slowly seating himself._] It's very alarming. [_Aside._ _Lady._ Letty, leave the room, and fasten the door. [_Exit LETTY._ _Vapid._ No, no!--don't do that, I beseech you! _Lady._ You're very much frightened, Mr Vapid;--I hope you don't suppose I have any design against you? _Vapid._ I don't know, really, ma'am--such things are perfectly dramatic. _Lady._ Well, but, to release you from your fears, I'll tell you why I have given you this trouble--My business, Mr Vapid, was to converse with you on the farcical affair that happened at Neville's. _Vapid._ Farcical! _Lady._ Yes, sir, the farcical affair that happened at Mr Neville's. _Vapid._ Farcical?--what, my epilogue, ma'am?--I hope you don't mean to reflect on that? _Lady._ No, sir, far from it--I have no doubt but it is a very elegant composition. _Vapid._ Doubt!--here it is, read it!--the very first production of the age! A regular climax of poetic beauty!--the last line the _ne plus ultra_ of genius. _Lady._ But, to be serio
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