The Burgher
[hurriedly pulling his son away].
By all the holies! And this, my boy, is the theatre where they played Rotrou erewhile.
The Young Man.
Ay, and Corneille!
A Troop of Pages
[hand in hand, enter dancing the farandole, and singing].
Tra' a la, la, la, la, la, la, la, lère…
The Doorkeeper
[sternly, to the Pages].
You pages there, none of your tricks!…
First Page
[with an air of wounded dignity].
O sir!—such a suspicion!… [Briskly, to the Second Page, the moment the Doorkeeper's back is turned.] Have you string?
The Second.
Ay, and a fish-hook with it.
First Page.
We can angle for wigs, then, up there i' th' gallery.
A Pickpocket
[gathering about him some evil-looking youths].
Hark ye, young cut-purses, lend an ear, while I give you your first lesson in thieving.
