Triplet. Listen, all of you.
You see, Jane, they are all at a sumptuous banquet, all the _dramatis
personae,_ except the poet."
Triplet went on writing, and reading his work out: "Music, sparkling
wine, massive plate, rose-water in the hand-glasses, soup, fish--shall I
have three sorts of fish? I will; they are cheap in this market. Ah!
Fortune, you wretch, here at least I am your master, and I'll make you
know it-- venison," wrote Triplet, with a malicious grin, "game, pickles
and provocatives in the center of the table; then up jumps one of the
guests, and says he--"
"Oh dear, I am so hungry."
This was not from the comedy, but from one of the boys.
"And so am I," cried a girl.
"That is an absurd remark, Lysimachus," said Triplet with a suspicious
calmness. "How can a boy be hungry three hours after breakfast?"
"But, father, there was no breakfast for breakfast."
"Now I ask you, Mrs. Triplet," appealed the author, "how I am to write
comic scenes if you let Lysimachus and Roxalana here put the heavy
business in every five minutes?"
"Forgive them; the poor things are hungry."
"Then let them be hungry in another room," said the irritated scribe.
"They shan't cling round my pen, and paralyze it, just when it is going
to make all our fortunes; but you women," snapped Triplet the Just, "have
no consideration for people's feelings.
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